


Bad Blood

by iliura



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crime Scenes, Detectives, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Murder Mystery, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliura/pseuds/iliura
Summary: Akaashi, self-proclaimed disgraced detective with a plan to never show his face in Tokyo law enforcement again, finds himself back at the forefront of a gruesome investigation. He manages to keep himself at arm's length, only reluctantly offering his assistance because Daichi is his friend and Bokuto's pretty eyes are hard to resist. That is, until the investigation suddenly turns frighteningly personal, and Akaashi has to race against time to save a life.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 215
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm excited about writing this, mostly because I've been planning it for a long time but finally got an outline with a cohesive plot written down. Also, I love murder mysteries, so I am excited to try my hand at writing my own.  
> There will probably be a good bit of characters mentioned by name only and with no significant relevance to the plot, so I won't be tagging them.  
> Finally, this is a murder mystery, so there will be descriptions of violence and blood and crime scenes. I'm not really fond of gore myself, so the descriptions won't be super graphic, but they'll still be there out of necessity.

Rain spattered on the sidewalk from the trees above; large drops hanging, collecting at the tips of branches and leaves, growing and bulging until they were too heavy, then falling and exploding on dark concrete. The force of impact projected miniscule secondary droplets outward, creating a pattern of fingers, reaching to dampen more pavement. 

Transparent met dark red, droplets mingled, and sickening pink water drifted away in tiny canals carved into the ground.

Daichi stood and watched the blood drip from the bench, grossly mimicking the raindrops that trickled down his neck from the trees swaying above him against the black sky. The squelches of shoes against damp ground filled his ears, and the breeze, chilled from the recent downpour, whispered over his exposed face. He wished, not for the first time in his life, that it could tell him its secrets. 

He took a deep breath and took a few steps toward the bench to observe the scene more closely. The girl was young, her skin smooth and unblemished. Her raven colored hair spilled over her shoulders in playful curls, though it was frizzed at the very ends. If he hadn’t known better, Daichi might have been able to just see her as a pretty-faced girl enjoying the cool spring night. 

But he did know better. Not only that, but the only unblemished part of her was her blank face. His eyes drifted down to the front of her, and he took note of the visible gashes covering her neck, exposed chest, and forearms. He counted seven. The wounds had stopped oozing blood long ago, the edges of them showing signs of coagulation. He leaned in slightly, observing the scuff marks on her knees. She was barefoot, and though he couldn’t see the bottoms of her feet, he guessed she would have similar scrapes and bruises there. 

Daichi rose to his full height, turning away and staring into the field lamps that had been set up around the scene. He stared until he couldn’t anymore, praying the fluorescent lights would burn the images of torn skin and unseeing stares from his mind. He finally blinked away, letting his eyes readjust to the surrounding darkness, and turned toward the sound of footsteps approaching him. 

“This rain totally compromised the scene,” Kuroo said offhandedly, his voice gruff. He lifted a gloved hand and gently shook the bags containing various samples of fluids, fibers, hair, and whatever else he decided he needed. “I have a feeling all this is just going to tell me we know nothing.”

Daichi hummed in response. 

“Hey, make sure you don’t touch anything! Just take pictures, that’s what lenses are for. You don’t need to be that close,” Kuroo barked, fluttering his free hand at a baby-faced boy crouching near the body with a camera in his hand. The man nodded furiously and scurried backwards, continuing to take more pictures. Kuroo sighed and rolled his eyes. “These interns are going to mess up my crime scene.”

“You just said the rain already compromised it,” Daichi replied. “What more damage could they do?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “You’re right though. There’s not going to be any viable evidence left after this rain.”

“I hate when these damn criminals are smart,” Kuroo said. He meant it. It wasn’t fair that people who wanted to hurt others could also be smart enough to get away with it. 

“Who found her?”

“A couple taking a stroll through the park. They’re talking to some officers now. Those wounds weren’t fresh though. I won’t know until I get the autopsy results, but I’d estimate that she was probably dead for a few hours before she was placed here.” Kuroo jerked his head toward the bench. “You should see this, though.”

Daichi followed him to the far side of the bench. The girl’s hand was laying limply at her side, her palm only half exposed through her stiffened fingers. Kuroo reached out and gingerly picked up her hand, pulling her fingers open. Daichi was always impressed at just how easily Kuroo treated victims like humans; Daichi had encountered his fair share of forensic investigators who only saw the world through the lens of science. Kuroo, however, acted as if the girl was just resting, his every touch a subtle request for consent to maneuver her body so he could help solve this case. Daichi hoped Kuroo never lost that part of his humanity, no matter what he saw in his career.

He turned his attention to the victim’s palm Kuroo had carefully displayed. The white skin had been marred, and even in the dim light, Daichi could see that the words ‘ha ha’ had been carved into the flesh. Kuroo returned her hand to its original resting position, then stood. Then he took a few steps behind the bench to the table that had been set up. It was covered with various tools needed for investigating the scene, but on the corner rested a blood-stained envelope. Kuroo lifted it and held it out to Daichi. 

Daichi stared at it for a moment. “Aren’t you going to dust it for fingerprints or something?”

“Already did,” Kuroo replied. “There’s nothing, it was all washed away. She was clutching it in her hand.”

Daichi reached out and took it, trying to avoid the rusty red spots covering the paper. 

“I didn’t open it,” Kuroo said, laying the samples down on the table. “My mother taught me not to open mail addressed to other people.”

“What are you talking about?” Daichi asked, then flipped the envelope over. The writing was smudged from the rain, but he could make out the letters regardless. 

_Akaashi Keiji_

“Seriously?” Daichi muttered, and he tore the envelope open and yanked out the folded paper tucked inside.

“Daichi, that’s a federal offense,” Kuroo chided, smirking.

“Oh, I’m sure Akaashi will get right on pressing charges against me for it.” Daichi scanned his eyes over the paper, his brow furrowing deeper with every line. Once he was done, he all but threw the paper on the wet ground. “Damn it!”

“Bad news?” Kuroo crossed his arms and leaned against the table. He frowned at the look on Daichi’s face; the poor man shouldn’t have so many deep worry lines at his age. He was much too young.

Daichi turned on his heel to head back to his car, calling over his shoulder, “When is it ever good news?”

Akaashi considered ignoring the knock on his door. He could easily pretend he was sleeping or not home. There was no person he could think of in his life who would just drop by unannounced. Perhaps it was his elderly neighbor, and he certainly wasn’t interested in explaining to her that there wasn’t anyone trying to break into her window at night; she just really needed to call someone about the squirrels who were nesting in the wall. 

He resolved himself to ignoring the knocks, pretending he was napping heavily in the middle of the afternoon, and praying whoever was outside would go away. They didn’t. 

Another series of loud thumps were followed by a deep, demanding voice that he was all too familiar with.

“Akaashi, I know you’re home, I saw your car outside,” Daichi barked through the thick wood. “Open up, this is important.”

Akaashi rolled off his couch and padded to the door, unlocking it and opening it just enough to peer at Daichi. 

“I’m sleeping,” he said, eyeing Daichi reproachfully.

Daichi crossed his arms and raised a brow at the messy haired man before him. Through the sliver of the open door he could see the bruise-like circle under Akaashi’s eye. He guessed there was a matching one hidden from his view. 

“Well, now you’re up, let me in,” Daichi replied. Akaashi rolled his eyes and let the door swing open.

Daichi followed him inside, clicking the door shut behind him and watching Akaashi slink back to his couch and plop down. The apartment was littered with half-filled boxes, Akaashi’s bookshelves strangely empty of the massive collection Daichi knew the man to have. 

“Are you moving?” Daichi asked, walking deeper into the apartment and standing in the middle of the room.

Akaashi’s arm was thrown over his face, but he lifted it slightly to side-eye Daichi. He considered giving some witty retort, but he decided against it. Those kinds of comments required concentration and brain power, neither of which Akaashi had at the moment.

“Yes,” he replied simply, replacing his arm. 

“Where to?” Daichi asked. “Trying to get out of the city? I’ll be honest, I miss the quietness of Miyagi. Where are you looking? Kamakura? Hatagaya?”

Akaashi sat up and clasped his hands together. “More like Lyon.”

Daichi stilled. “Lyon? As in, France?”

“Yeah, that would be the one.”

“You’re moving to France?” Daichi blinked, waiting for Akaashi to reply. When he didn’t, Daichi took it upon himself to fill the silence. “Why? What about the Agency? When were you going to tell me?”

Akaashi sighed and fiddled with his fingers. He knew Daichi would react this way, and he had been preparing a way to break the news to him. He hadn’t managed to come up with anything he deemed as a worthy approach and flying by the seat of his pants wasn’t really how he wanted to do it. But he supposed he had no choice now. 

“I put in my resignation on Monday. I got accepted for a position at Interpol, and they asked me to come join the team at their headquarters in France,” Akaashi replied. “I was going to tell you soon, but I just found out myself that it all went through. I didn’t want to approach the topic with you without confirmation of the job first.”

Daichi threw his hands up in the air, let them linger there, then dropped them heavily. “You’re telling me you just decided to join Interpol, and instead of staying at the bureau here in Tokyo, you just took a position in France?”

Akaashi stared at Daichi for a few seconds, trying to gauge if his question was rhetorical or not. Daichi was staring back, clearly anticipating an answer.

“Well, yeah,” Akaashi said. 

Daichi deflated and tipped his head back. Akaashi’s dry, straightforward honesty was always a little too much to handle. Would it kill the guy to soften his blows for once?

“Akaashi, I know that the last few months have been hard for you, but it’s to be expected,” Daichi said. “You can’t be this hard on yourself, and you certainly can’t just…leave.”

Akaashi held up his hand. “Daichi, I’m not trying to run away or anything like that. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, and I honestly didn’t even want to leave at first, but I can’t come back. I can’t face the Agency after what happened.”

“But no one thinks less of you for anything. No one thinks you’re a bad detective, or disgraced, or anything like that. Hell, you’re a better detective than me. We were all as blind as you were. Honestly, I didn’t even believe you when you finally put the pieces together.”

“You really want someone like me back on your team?” Akaashi stared at Daichi again, his usual deadpan expression settling over his features. 

Daichi nodded. “I mean, you passed all your psychiatric evaluations. I have no reason to think you can’t handle the job.”

Akaashi shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m taking the job at Interpol.”

“There’s no way I can convince you to reconsider?” Daichi watched Akaashi’s face for any signs of hesitation or doubt. He saw none. “Okay, fine. Well, I hope it’s everything you want it to be.”

“Thanks,” Akaashi replied. 

Daichi wandered over to one of the bookshelves lining the wall. The top shelf had never been home to books, instead housing picture frames that displayed the important people in Akaashi’s life. Daichi was familiar with the pictures of Akaashi’s family; his kind-eyed mother, the same deep blue as her son’s. His father, whose smile always warmed Daichi, no matter what picture he saw of him. His pretty-faced sister, who looked so much like Akaashi that Daichi had thought they were twins the first time he saw her. Next to those familiar images was a new one, though Daichi recognized the faces in it.

He picked up the frame and examined the faces that grinned back at him, the smiles the two young boys were sporting reaching from ear-to-ear. The smaller one, with his wild orange hair, had one arm thrown around the waist of his taller, dark-haired friend. He was giving the camera a peace sign. The taller boy had his arm draped across the smaller one’s shoulders, his other hand placed confidently on his hip. 

“Wow,” Daichi said softly, “Kageyama and Hinata have really grown. Have you seen them recently?” He turned to face Akaashi, who had risen from the couch to come peer at the picture himself.

Akaashi nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I took the weeks off during the trial, but then I got right back into seeing them. I needed to get back to as much normalcy as possible, and honestly, I got to spend more time with them than usual. They actually emailed me this picture while I wasn’t seeing them; Hinata grew two centimeters and he wanted to make sure I could see that he was getting closer to Kageyama’s height.”

Daichi laughed deeply, setting the frame back on the shelf. “Those boys are too much. They love you though, and I know they appreciate everything you do for them.”

Akaashi shrugged noncommittedly, walking into his kitchen. “I wouldn’t know them if it weren’t for you. I didn’t even know sponsor programs like that existed. It feels right to reach out to kids who need the support. You know, try to prevent the criminals from becoming criminals so then we don’t have to hunt them down.”

Daichi stood in the entry way to the kitchen. “I don’t think those boys would have ever committed a crime in their lives.”

“Not now,” Akaashi replied, smiling. 

“Do they know you’re moving?”

Akaashi nodded, staring at the glass of water he had just poured for himself. He wondered if he should offer a drink to Daichi, but then decided against it. If he did that, it meant he was okay with Daichi staying longer. And he wasn’t. 

“They made me swear a blood oath that we’ll stay in contact,” he said, chuckling. “And they want to come visit me and spend a weekend in Paris.”

Daichi laughed. “That sounds like them.”

Akaashi set his drink on the counter and crossed his arms. “Well, I know you didn’t come visit me just to make small talk about the interesting events in my life. So, what do you want?”

“I’m offended, Akaashi. Can’t I just come check on my fellow team member and make sure he’s doing well?”

“Please, Daichi, you’ve never shown up without calling first.”

Daichi scoffed. “How do you know I wasn’t just in the area and decided to drop by?”

Akaashi smirked. “You don’t just ‘drop by.’ My guess is that you have something you want to talk to me about relating to work. But it’s probably not a pleasant thing, and you knew if you called me, I would pick up on that in your voice. You didn’t want to risk me not letting you in, so you made sure I was home and then just showed up unannounced because then I would be caught off guard. And you haven’t brought it up yet, instead making small talk and asking me about my life, so I would be more willing to listen to you because now we have rapport.”

“I hate it when you do that,” Daichi grumbled. He shifted uneasily, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket to withdraw the wrinkled, water and blood withered paper. “Yesterday I got called to a scene in a park. I know it’s impossible, but it was identical, Akaashi. I mean, down to the knees and the posing and the open eyes.”

Akaashi had gone stiff, and he was eyeing the paper in Daichi’s hand. 

“Kuroo found this in the victim’s hand, as well as words carved into her palm. It was addressed to you. I read it already, but I think you need to read it yourself.”

Daichi held the paper out to Akaashi, who took it gingerly and stared at it in his own hand. He looked as if he were waiting for it to come alive and bite him. He slowly unfolded the paper, peeling apart the corners that had bonded together with great care. He lowered his eyes to the words, some of the ink smeared from blood, some of it smeared from water.

_The best profiler in Tokyo, but you couldn’t stop this. What a shame. Just know that she suffered. Not as smart as you think, now are you? You thought this was all over. Guess again._

Akaashi swallowed hard and set the paper down on the counter. Then he decided he didn’t want it touching the surfaces where he also put food, so he picked it back up and held it limply in his hands.

“Akaashi, I know you’re leaving, and I know you don’t want to relive this, but I need your help,” Daichi said softly. He could see the discomfort in Akaashi’s scrunched shoulders. “Could you just come look at the evidence?”

“No,” Akaashi replied, his voice tight.

“Akaashi, the scenes are identical. I mean, you know this thing better than anyone else—”

“No.”

“Just a consult. Please, Akaashi, the scene was compromised by the rain so Kuroo can’t get any forensic evidence and Kenma isn’t having any luck tracking her cell phone—”

“Daichi, no.”

Daichi sighed and let his shoulders slump forward. Akaashi handed the paper back to him, the edges crumpled from him curling his fist around it as Daichi had been speaking. Daichi took it and folded it, stuffing it back into his pocket. 

“I can’t do that,” Akaashi said, his tone stern but his voice quiet. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

Daichi nodded. “It’s okay, Akaashi. I understand. But I had to ask.” He turned and walked to the door, looking over his shoulder to see that Akaashi had moved to stand in the entry way to his kitchen. “Let me know if you need anything, Akaashi. I’m serious.”

Akaashi nodded, then watched Daichi exit his apartment. He walked over quickly and locked it, pressing his forehead against the door and seriously considering just going to bed for the rest of the day and night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is only the second chapter, but I promise it will pick up soon. I want to build some foundation first, so if it seems slow, it won't stay that way.

Akaashi steps carefully into the darkened warehouse. His gun is unholstered, gripped tightly in clammy hands. He wishes he wasn’t nervous, tries to steady his breathing, and checks his surroundings.

He’s not scared. He just doesn’t want to face the truth of the situation. There’s no way he’s right. There must be some explanation, something he just hasn’t seen yet. But the fact that he’s entering this building alone is enough to remind him that he’s not wrong.

He walks slowly with his back pressed against the wall, making sure his steps are silent. When he reaches the corner, he peers around the junction, gun poised by his hip, and looks for any movement. He sees none. 

He rounds the corner, repeats the process, until an open space of floor comes into view. The light is dim, but he can see a figure standing in the shadows. They are gripping the girl Akaashi is there for by her arm. He watches the knife bury itself into her chest, and she cries out. The shadow-clad individual thrusts her forward, and she crumples to the floor in a heap. 

Akaashi cries out, aims, shoots at the shadow figure. He doesn’t bother to check where the bullet found its home. He rushes forward, gathers the wounded girl in his arms, and watches the various wounds on her mangled body seep blood into his shirt…

He jerked awake with a jolt and cry, sitting up abruptly in his bed. The sheet, damp with his sweat, tangled around his legs, and Akaashi desperately tried to kick it off. The air in his bedroom was thick and heavy, feeling like syrup stuck in his lungs. He finally managed to peel the sheet off his legs, then pulled his knees to his chest and lowered his head to rest on his knees.

Akaashi focused on his breathing, on taking deep breaths through his nose and letting them seep out through his lips. His eyes were closed, and he tried to imagine something pleasant instead of the images of the dead girl. He settled on a memory of him and his sister at the beach as children. His sister had buried his legs under the sand, and then she had shaped the sand to look like a mermaid tail and put a bucket on his head, dubbing him a mermaid prince. 

Slowly, slowly, his muscles began to unknot. His breathing was less ragged, and his lungs didn’t feel like they were burning from lack of oxygen. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. 

Akaashi flopped onto his back, sighed, and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling in the darkness of his room.

Yes, it was just a dream. A dream he had experienced every night for the last three months. A dream that forced him to relive the night his life fell apart.

______________________

It wasn’t right for the sun to be shining so brightly. It felt like an offense; blatant disrespect on nature’s part to the events unfolding. How could the world keep turning, the seasons keep changing, the air warm up and welcome spring so readily, when people were being brutally slaughtered?

Daichi wasn’t sure he would ever understand how life continued even when he wanted it so desperately to stop. His days were almost always dampened by the evils of the world; he couldn’t reconcile them with a blue sky, fluffy white clouds, and blooming cherry blossom trees. 

He ascended the steps to the train platform, sliding to the far right of the railing as an intern bustled past him carrying a box filled with samples. He reached the top of the steps, approaching Kuroo, who was crouched before the body that had been discovered early that morning. 

Kuroo was gently lifting the girl’s hand, scraping at the material underneath her fingernails and depositing whatever he collected onto an evidence slab. He secured that in a bag and placed it in another bin, then rose. He turned to face Daichi as he approached. 

“Good morning, Captain,” Kuroo said.

“Kuroo, how do you maintain a cheery disposition after you just scraped genetic material from a dead girl’s fingernails?” Daichi asked, frowning.

Kuroo smirked. “Perspective, Captain. I was able to collect genetic material this time around. It hasn’t rained. That’s something to be happy about.”

“Whatever you say,” Daichi replied. “Any letters this time?”

“None. But Iwaizumi did call me about another body found on a university campus. I’m finishing up here and then I’ll be going there to collect evidence. I don’t trust those dingbat analysts from the other lab.” Kuroo peeled his gloves off as he spoke and deposited them into a bag to be thrown away.

Daichi turned away from the body of the girl on the bench. This scene was hardly any different from the one in the park; furthermore, it was hardly any different from the scenes he had arrived at only a few months ago. That unsettled him more. 

“Iwaizumi told me that, too,” Daichi said to Kuroo. “I’m heading over there now, but I wanted to come see this scene first. The new detective is at the other scene.”

“Oh, new detective,” Kuroo cooed, following Daichi down the platform steps with the evidence box in his hands. “You trust them enough to evaluate a scene without you there?” 

It was unlike Daichi to let go of the reins so easily, though Kuroo supposed the circumstances called for it. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were already working another case, so it wasn’t like he could dispatch them. Kuroo wished, not for the first time, that Akaashi was back.

Daichi nodded in response to Kuroo’s question. “He’s a competent detective, I trust him.”

The university campus, usually bustling with students, was eerily empty. Daichi grimaced, saddened that these students were probably terrified to live their lives now that a body of a girl – someone that was probably known among some of them – was found dead on their campus. This was a place many of them considered “home.” It had been desecrated. 

He approached the commons area, currently bustling with crime scene investigators. Some were snapping pictures; others were collecting evidence from the surroundings. Kuroo rushed past him, already pulling gloves on and readying the tools he would need to collect physical evidence from the body. Daichi veered to the right of the scene, heading instead toward the man standing by the evidence table. 

“Bokuto,” Daichi called out, earning the other’s attention. 

Bokuto turned to face Daichi, a hand lifting to tuck a few lose strands of his white tipped hair back into place. The spring breeze only ruffled them to fall back against his forehead. He decided to just leave them there. 

“Captain,” Bokuto replied. He accepted Daichi’s firm handshake.

“Congratulations on your promotion to detective. I’m sorry we had to utilize you for such a grisly case already.” Daichi offered Bokuto a sympathetic smile. “I hope you’re okay with trial by fire.”

Bokuto smiled in return. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Though, I wish the trial was with something like petty thieves, not an active serial killer.”

Daichi nodded in assent. “I’m assuming you know about the other girl at the train station?”

“It sounds like they were discovered around roughly the same time,” Bokuto replied. “Somehow they managed to place two bodies in locations kilometers apart without being noticed or having the victim’s discovered. It feels…” He waved his hands around in the air for a moment, “…orchestrated. As if this is some kind of game.”

Daichi frowned, thinking back to the letter found with the first victim.

Bokuto picked up a file folder from the evidence table, leafing through the papers inside. “These cases are weirdly similar to the serial killer your team nailed a few months ago, right?”

“Identical, actually. The girl we found last week had the same scuffs and bruises on her knees and soles of her feet as the victims from the original case. The girl at the station did as well, and I’m sure this girl does too.” Daichi sighed and crossed his arms. “All of the original victims were posed the same way: palms up, eyes open, hair styled, seven visible stab wounds…”

“Just like these three girls,” Bokuto said, finishing Daichi’s thought. He closed the file folder and placed it back on the table. “But your killer is in prison, right?”

“Of course. He’s going to die in there.”

“Well, then obviously he’s not behind this. Plus, the likelihood of this being just one person is pretty slim. Two victims at once is a major change in MO. And, like I said, these two victims were found at roughly the same time, meaning they were probably placed at the same time.” Bokuto’s face was serious. “I think we’re looking at two killers.”

Daichi began to chew on the inner part of his bottom lip. This was bad.

“Are you thinking copycats?” he asked Bokuto. 

“That’s probably the best place to start.”

Kuroo was approaching the two detectives, carrying bags of collected evidence. He deposited them on the table, then jerked his head in the direction of the far sidewalk. 

“Looks like we’ve got company,” he said.

Bokuto and Daichi turned to see a crowd of people with voice recorders and notepads gathering at the barricades. Young officers were standing guard, preventing anyone from passing the perimeter. Daichi sighed.

“The last thing the media needs is the details of this case. If these are copycats, they certainly don’t need the attention,” Bokuto muttered. 

“I’ll go give a general statement, but Kuroo, make sure none of those interns get caught by a reporter,” Daichi said, beginning his trek to the sidewalk. 

Bokuto glanced back at Kuroo and raised an eyebrow. Kuroo grinned and shook his head. 

“Some of these interns are idiots,” he explained. Then he threw a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing back to the scene. “Come here. I’ve got some stuff to show you.”

He picked up on the first ring, which surprised Daichi. 

“I saw the news,” Akaashi said instead of ‘hello.’

Daichi ran his hand over his face, leaning his elbows against his desk. “So you know why I’m calling, then?”

“I already told you I’m not getting involved with this.”

“We got a new detective, and I think he’s capable, but we just need a direction. The MO totally changed.”

Akaashi was staring at an article about the most recent victim on his laptop. He’d started doing research as soon as the story broke about the girl at the university, but the media barely had any details. He supposed that was a good thing. However, Daichi’s comment about the change in MO caught his attention. Daichi was always good at keeping the media’s rumors at bay, so there was no hint of a change in any reports available to the public.

“What changed?” he asked.

“There was another victim at a train station. I guess the media wasn’t as interested in her. But both girls were found this morning, around the same time.”

Akaashi sat up straight in his desk chair. “Two victims? In one day? Are you sure it was the same –”

“They both had the bruises and the seven stab wounds,” Daichi replied, interrupting Akaashi’s questioning.

Akaashi was quiet for a moment while he processed. “Two killers,” he whispered, more to himself than to Daichi. 

“I need your help, Akaashi,” Daichi said. He had a feeling that he was close to convincing him, but he had to tread carefully. He didn’t want to scare him off. “You know this case better than anyone else. You see things that no one else can see. I don’t know how to begin pursuing ghosts of a killer who’s already been caught.”

Akaashi chewed on his bottom lip. Daichi was right; how do you catch echoes of someone else’s work? He believed that Daichi would make progress, but he also knew Daichi wouldn’t be begging him for help if he didn’t really need it. Daichi was too respectful of other’s wishes to press an issue like this without reasonable cause. 

“Fine,” Akaashi finally said. He heard Daichi breathe a sigh of relief. “I’ll come in and look at what you have, but only this one time. I’m not getting involved beyond this, Daichi. Do you understand?”

“Thank you, Akaashi.”

______________________

Officers bustled past Akaashi, some sending greetings his way, others just giving a slight nod. Akaashi felt self-conscious, worrying his bottom lip as he entered the station through the double doors. He wondered if the officers passing by him thought he was worthy of being there, or if they felt the same as he did. Did they also think he was a disgrace? Did they judge him just as harshly for bringing shame on the Agency?

The station felt the same as it had the last day Akaashi had spent there. The large room he entered was buzzing with white noise: murmurs of voices, tapping on keyboards, rustling papers. It smelled like burnt coffee, the rich, dark scent reminding Akaashi of all the long nights he had spent there, drinking cup after cup just to stay awake and look at a little more evidence.

Akaashi’s eyes fell immediately on his desk – his old desk, rather. It looked the same, maybe a little neater than usual. He stopped by it, picking up the picture of his sister that he kept there. He hadn’t thought about coming to clean up his things, mostly because he didn’t keep many personal things at work. He was suddenly glad he had agreed to come. 

“Akaashi!”

He was startled out of his thoughts by a loud outburst dangerously close to him. He didn’t have time to turn around before he was being slapped on the back, and Oikawa’s smiling face appeared next to him. 

“Ah, Oikawa,” Akaashi replied. He set the picture frame back on his desk. 

“I was beginning to think that you had up and left the country! I’ve been so lonely without you,” Oikawa said, pouting slightly and leaning against the desk next to Akaashi’s. “Iwa-chan is mean to me, and there’s no one here to tell him to stop.”

Akaashi couldn’t help but smile, but then let it fall. Unfortunately, Oikawa had no idea how close he was to being right about Akaashi leaving the country.

Oikawa watched the small, rare smile fall from Akaashi’s lips, and his own fell. Akaashi looked like he had bruises under his eyes, and his cheeks were thinner than usual. Oikawa would bet money that Akaashi hadn’t been sleeping much, and when he did it was restless.

“How are you doing?” Oikawa asked cautiously, his voice quieter now. 

“I’m getting by,” Akaashi replied. He glanced behind Oikawa as Iwaizumi approached. 

Iwaizumi slapped Oikawa on the back of the head, earning a yelp and scowl from the other. 

“Get your flat ass off my desk,” Iwaizumi said, no hints of seriousness in his grumble. Oikawa feigned offense, then slid up to sit on it properly. Iwaizumi only rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s childish expression. Then he turned to give his attention to Akaashi. “Welcome back.”

Akaashi nodded. “I’m only here to look at some evidence with Daichi. I won’t be staying.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi blinked.

“You’re not coming back?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Just right now? Or like, at all?” Oikawa added. 

Akaashi shifted uncomfortably where he was standing. He wasn’t ready for this conversation; he wasn’t sure he had ever planned on even having it. A part of him just wanted to let Daichi do the dirty work. 

Before he could answer, though, Daichi exited his office on the second level and gave Akaashi a small wave. 

“I’m going to go get the new detective, then we can go look at what Kuroo and Kenma have compiled,” he said. Akaashi nodded in response. 

“Oh, wait until you meet the new detective, Akaashi,” Oikawa cooed, his interest in the previous topic of conversation seemingly forgotten. 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at Oikawa. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Iwa-chan is just jealous because the new guy is beefier than he is,” Oikawa whispered. Iwaizumi smacked him on the back of the head again. 

Just then, Daichi reentered the room. Akaashi turned his attention away from the bickering partners, but he froze in place when he saw the man following Daichi. 

Daichi approached the group, gesturing to the detective behind him and directing his words at Akaashi. “This is Detective Bokuto. Bokuto, this is –"

“Akaashi?” Bokuto interrupted. He was staring at Akaashi, his eyes wide. A moment passed, then a grin spread across his face. “Oh my God, Akaashi.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied, swallowing a lump in his throat. 

Akaashi decided that he changed his mind about being glad he’d agreed to come in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lowkey slam America like, twice in this chapter but it's okay because I'm American

The room was deathly quiet. It was the kind of quiet that fell over a darkened theater, moments before the curtain lifted. Everyone waiting in anticipation, envisioning the next moments when the lights would blink on, eyes would adjust, and attention would focus on the stage.

Akaashi was aware that he and Bokuto were the ones on this metaphorical stage. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Daichi were the audience, hushed breaths filling the vacuum space around them. Akaashi was staring at Bokuto, analyzing his angular face, mentally overlaying the image of a teenaged Bokuto that he had from memory onto these new, aged features. 

Bokuto’s cheeks were thinner, having lost any remaining baby fat that he’d held on to in adolescence. His chin and jaw had chiseled out, and Akaashi guessed that in the right lighting there would be impressive shadows dancing across that tanned skin. 

Akaashi remembered Bokuto always being broad, his shoulders and biceps toned and built from years of sports, but Bokuto was even broader now. His muscles stood out even though they were hidden under the taut fabric of his button-down. He had the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms. Akaashi’s eyes traveled down slightly, trying to not be so obvious to either Bokuto or his secondary audience. Bokuto’s hips pulled into an impressive v-shape that rivaled even Iwaizumi’s well-kept physique. 

It took a good amount of effort to push old memories of those forearms and hips back into the crevices of his mind and drag his eyes back to Bokuto’s face, where honey gold eyes watched Akaashi carefully. Akaashi only met those eyes for a brief second before redirecting his attention to Daichi. 

Bokuto pretended he didn’t see Akaashi’s eyes wander just slightly down his body. His heart was racing, pounding against his chest like a hammer, the nail it was trying to drive home being all the memories and emotions flooding back. Akaashi was the same pretty-faced, heavy lidded beauty that Bokuto had fawned after during his teenage years. His shoulders were still slim and slender, but Bokuto knew the strength that lie just beneath. He still held his chin elevated just slightly, barely hinting at the sassy personality that he kept so well hidden. His raven-colored hair still curled at the ends, though Bokuto noticed that Akaashi seemed to keep the curls more tamed now. 

His high cheek bones and thick eyelashes still gave him that otherworldly look, like Bokuto was looking at a god that had walked right out of the forest and inserted himself into the daily comings and goings of regular humans. And his eyes were still that ocean-deep blue, capturing Bokuto’s attention and forcing him to sink deeper, drowning him in their depth but leaving Bokuto longing to go further, pursuing the answers to the mysteries that made up Akaashi Keiji. 

But under those pretty eyes were heavy, purple bruises. And Akaashi’s smooth skin, which had always been milky white and transcendent, was instead deathly pale and translucent. His cheeks were hollow and thin, and his eyelids drooped lower than normal. Bokuto was startled by just how weary, how feeble and frail he looked. Surely this wasn’t the “new” Akaashi – someone so run down by his career that he looked less like a seasoned professional and more like someone who belonged in the halls of a hospital. 

Then again, Bokuto hadn’t seen Akaashi in over eight years. People change. 

Their silent reunion scene found its curtain call when the audience broke its silence. 

“You know each other?” Daichi asked, his tone incredulous. 

Neither of them spoke for a moment, silently deciding who would give the story. There was an unspoken understanding between Bokuto and Akaashi that they had different opinions on their jointed pasts; both were unsure what the other wanted revealed. In the end, it was Akaashi who relented.

“We went to high school together,” he said, his answer simple. He offered no more information, and Bokuto only nodded. 

Daichi didn’t respond at first, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi looked between the two nervously. Their body language implied history; Bokuto’s was open and confident, his hands tucked in his pockets, and his shoulders relaxed. But Akaashi’s was defensive. He was leaning back slightly, most of his weight balanced on his hips, and his arms were crossed. A silent glance between Iwaizumi and Oikawa was all that was needed for them to mutually agree to say nothing. Akaashi wouldn’t be impressed if they did.

Daichi read the situation just as accurately, and he quickly dismissed the topic and moved on. “Well, then there’s no need for further introductions. Let’s go meet with Kuroo and Kenma,” he said, fluttering his hand about and turning to lead them away. 

Akaashi followed Daichi first, Bokuto falling in step right next to him, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi returned to their desks. 

“Bokuto, I asked Akaashi to come in and look at the evidence we have. He worked the original case from a few months ago, so he’ll have insight that we don’t.” Daichi opened the door to a conference room, ushering the other men inside before he followed.

“Besides,” he continued, “while I have faith in your abilities and the director’s call, I think a little guidance from someone as experienced as Akaashi could help you immensely in your first official case as a detective.”

Akaashi eyed Bokuto at his side. “The director put a brand new detective on a serial killer case? That’s bold of him.”

Bokuto glared just slightly. “I am perfectly capable of handling this.”

“Baseless confidence may take you somewhere in high school sports, Bokuto-san, but this is the real world and people are dying,” Akaashi replied. He was aware his words were unnecessarily harsh, and Bokuto winced as if Akaashi had dug his nail into a particularly sensitive part of his skin. 

Before he could respond, though, Daichi shot Akaashi a look that implied a warning. Akaashi immediately diverted his gaze, opting to look at a spot on the wall instead. 

“Bokuto has an impressive history with solving various kinds of cases, Akaashi. Have some faith in him,” Daichi said, his voice even. Akaashi only nodded.

There was a small cough, indicating the presence of someone else in the room, and all attention was given there. Kuroo sat in a chair on the far side of the conference table, his fingers laced together and stretched to rest on the back of his head. He was leaning back in the chair, allowing it to tip as far back as it could go, balancing his weight between the chair and his crossed ankles perched on the conference table. Spread out around him were various file folders and bagged pieces of evidence from the crime scenes.

Next to him, focused on the laptop he had on the table, sat Kenma. His face was partially hidden behind the curtain of straight, bleached hair, and he appeared to be sitting cross legged on the office chair. He was tapping softly on the keyboard, his eyes scanning over the contents on his screen.

“Akaashi, you are one stone cold bitch,” Kuroo said, grinning. He flicked his head to readjust some of his wild black hair and winked at Bokuto. “Don’t worry, he’ll warm up to you. When I first met him, his first words to me were something along the lines of ‘hopefully you don’t contaminate evidence with that wildly unprofessional hairdo of yours.’”

Bokuto couldn’t help but chuckle. That sounded just like Akaashi, and if his personality were even somewhat the same from high school, Kuroo was the kind of person Akaashi would dislike immediately. A first encounter like that was no surprise. 

“His hairstyle is just as wildly unprofessional,” Akaashi said flatly. He spared Bokuto’s frosty tips a glance, then turned away, crossing his arms. “And it hasn’t changed a bit since high school.”

“You know, they say if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” Bokuto retorted, shooting Akaashi another icy glare. “I think you should start living by that.”

“If you two are done behaving like _children,_ ” Daichi said, lowering his voice in warning, “we could begin doing what we’re all here for.”

Akaashi and Bokuto nodded, approaching the conference table and sitting down. Bokuto plopped into a chair next to Kuroo, having already developed a special camaraderie with him that was only being strengthened by Akaashi’s mutual tendency to insult them. Akaashi pointedly sat next to Kenma, who finally looked away from his computer to look at Akaashi. 

“Keiji,” he said, his voice soft and sweet. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, Kenma,” Akaashi replied. He’d forgotten just how calming Kenma’s presence could be. He was the quietest of the team, usually staying silent until he was addressed or had important information to give. Akaashi had found out quickly that Kenma was incredibly reliable, and his technical skills were envied across all the Tokyo bureaus of the Agency. 

Kenma watched Akaashi’s face for a moment, silently analyzing him. The dark circles and heavy droop in his shoulders suggested that Akaashi was, in fact, not alright. But Kenma knew not to press the issue in front of a room of people, especially Kuroo. And the biting remarks made toward Bokuto suggested Akaashi would not appreciate Kenma’s knowing analysis of his true condition. Kenma could respect that, so he simply nodded and gave Akaashi a small smile. 

“I’m glad to see you again,” he said, turned back to his computer. Then, he added, “I’ve missed you.”

Akaashi smiled softly. Then he directed his attention to Kuroo, who dropped his feet from the table and sat up, clapping his hands together. 

“Well!” he said, too loudly. “Let’s get started. Akaashi, here are the photos from each scene, and I have the evidence separated by the victims. I figured you don’t necessarily need to see the photos since they’re almost identical to the other cases, but I also know you’re thorough and would probably want to see them anyway.”

He handed the folders to Akaashi, who took them and flipped the first one open. He angled the photo away from Kenma, who had purposely shifted in his chair to remove Akaashi from his peripheral. Akaashi knew that Kenma preferred not to see the photos of any scenes or victims. He only looked when he had to, which was rare. If they ever needed to find cases that matched others, descriptions of wounds usually sufficed. Kenma had told Akaashi once that he had enough nightmares from just hearing what happened to people; he didn’t need to give his brain more fuel. 

Akaashi scanned the photos, taking ones from each scene that captured the same angle on each victim and comparing them. Then he stood, moving away from Kenma (and, regrettably, towards Bokuto) to lay the photos side by side on the table. 

“Kuroo, were there any substances found in their systems?” he asked.

Kuroo glanced over the autopsy reports, shaking his head. “None that were detectable from the tox reports. That doesn’t mean that there weren’t any though. We established with the victims from the original case that they could have been drugged before they were abducted.”

“That’s unlikely,” Akaashi replied. “We never found any evidence even in hair samples. But that means that this killer is just as strong and capable of abducting and subduing a young, healthy girl. So, it’s definitely a male.” 

“The last two victims were found at roughly the same time,” Bokuto said, pointing to the images of the girls. “They were kilometers apart, though, so we think there are probably two killers, at least.”

Akaashi nodded. “You’re right. But I still think they’re both male. The wounds on these bodies are deep. A woman wouldn’t be able to make those kinds of wounds unless she was abnormally strong. It’s hard to force a knife through the breastbone.” He fingered his own chest, pressing onto the bone for emphasis. 

“What if a woman is used to lure the victims?” Daichi suggested. “And then a man does the killing?”

Akaashi looked closely at the photos of the victims, then pointed to the first one. “The wounds on her chest are larger and deeper than the ones on her arms. But if you look at the victim found at the university, the wounds on her chest and arms are the same. And they match the ones from the arms of the first victim. The victim found at the train station –” he picked up that photo and laid it next to the victim from the campus, “—has the same deep, large wounds as the first victim’s chest.”

Bokuto leaned forward to examine the pictures. He saw what Akaashi was talking about, but he had to admit that he wouldn’t have seen the differences if they hadn’t been pointed out to him. Akaashi’s analysis was impressive. He could see why Daichi had asked him to look at the evidence. 

“The victim found in the park was the first for both killers,” Akaashi continued, pointing at the first victim’s photo. “There’s a larger killer, probably the muscles behind the whole thing. He stabbed her in the chest because he has the strength to do it. The smaller one stabbed her in the arms, probably because he wasn’t sure he could get through the bone and needed practice.”

Akaashi dropped the photos of the other two victims on top of the first. “The victim at the train station was killed solely by the larger one. It appears that she is also taller than the victim at the university, so logically the larger killer would be the one to place her as well. The smaller one killed the victim found at the university. The wounds are still more shallow, but he’s learning.”

Daichi leaned back on his heels and sighed. Akaashi was impressive, even after not working for months. His ability to analyze a scene without even being there outshone some of the most seasoned captains and officers. Daichi had to admit that Akaashi would excel in Interpol, whose whole operation was based on analyzing information secondhand and then giving direction to law enforcement around the world. 

“Their hair was styled, just like the original victims. Was any of it cut off?” Akaashi asked.

Kuroo shook his head. “And there was no evidence of anything else being taken from them either.”

Kenma looked up from his laptop. “I looked at each victim’s digital footprint, and there was nothing in particular that stood out. Only one of the girl’s cellphone was missing, but it was found in her apartment. The others had their phones, but they had been turned off so I couldn’t track where they had been.”

Akaashi nodded. “So, they’re smart enough to keep themselves from being tracked, but they didn’t take the trophies.”

“The locks of hair detail was never released to the public,” Bokuto said.

“Exactly,” Akaashi replied. He slid the photos back into their rightful folders and placed them neatly on the table. “They didn’t know about the trophies, just the basic details. My guess? You’re dealing with fanatical copycats.”

“Fanatical?” Kuroo questioned. 

Bokuto leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “When serial killers get sensationalized, sometimes they can acquire a cult-like following. People idolize them because of their perceived confidence, power, whatever. Since serial killers aren’t exactly common in Japan, we don’t really see it here. But it’s common in places like America.”

“The original case was unique because it got so much media attention after we solved it,” Daichi said. “Mostly because of…who the killer was.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes were trained on Akaashi. Daichi shifted uncomfortably, praying that Bokuto wouldn’t say anything about the original killer. Luckily, Bokuto sensed the shift in mood and remained quiet. Akaashi had gone stiff, his lips pressed into a straight line. Bokuto watched him from the corner of his eyes, wondering just what happened that caused Akaashi to leave the Agency. 

Kenma broke the silence. “Keiji, you’re the one who profiles these people. What should we be looking for?”

Akaashi met Kenma’s gaze, silently thanking him for moving the conversation along. “Check any correspondence with…” Akaashi stuttered, clenching his jaw and choking on the name he almost said. He coughed, then continued, “Check with the prison for correspondence with him: letters, visitors, anything like that. You’ll want to question those people first. Kenma, I would suggest you look for any sites that talk about the murders. 

“The people who are doing this aren’t going to be outspoken in person. They probably hold down normal jobs, something with a strict routine that allows them to fly under the radar as long as they stick to it. These people are followers, so they won’t have high positions in whatever jobs they hold. They’ll stand out in letters if they sent them – it will look almost like fan mail to a celebrity. If they are on websites, they will be overzealous in their praise for the murders.”

Kenma nodded and immediately started typing away on his computer. Daichi placed a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Akaashi,” he said. 

Akaashi nodded, met Bokuto’s gaze, then turned away. Bokuto huffed and stuck his bottom lip out in a slight pout. Akaashi was being unnecessarily cruel, and Bokuto didn’t even really know why. He supposed he wouldn’t get a chance to ask either, since Akaashi told Daichi he wouldn’t be coming back. Akaashi bid Kenma farewell, blatantly ignored Kuroo, and left the room.

“Stone. Cold. Bitch,” Kuroo muttered, gathering up the evidence from the table. 

“Has he always been this way?” Bokuto asked. He knew Akaashi was stoic in high school, but never so blatantly rude. 

“Yes,” Kuroo said.

“No,” Kenma said in unison with Kuroo. 

“The original case was…difficult for him,” Daichi said. “It changed him. But we’re done discussing Akaashi and our opinions of him. He gave us a direction, let’s pursue it.”

______________________

Akaashi swiped his thumb across his phone screen, flipping to the next article about the killings. There were as many opinionated, recklessly false pieces as there were ones with factual information. Akaashi scrunched his nose at the third article claiming that Japan was becoming too westernized, arguing that the original killings and now these ones were just proof that the country was being influenced by the systems of places like America.

He decided to close his phone and stop reading. It wasn’t like any new information had been released anyway. Akaashi supposed that was a good thing; a week had passed since his consultation with Daichi and the team and there had been no new victims. Akaashi hoped that meant his advice had been sound, that Bokuto and Daichi had closed in on the killers, maybe scared them into hiding. 

Akaashi knew that sometimes you need more victims to catch someone, but he prayed that this wasn’t the case. Daichi was capable, and he believed that Bokuto probably was too. If nothing else, Kuroo and Kenma would find something; they always did. 

He buried his face in his hands, half praying, half attempting to take a power nap. He could hear the din of voices echoing in the gym beyond the closed doors beside him. The recreational center wasn’t as busy as usual, and Akaashi assumed it was probably because the weather was warming up. People were playing their games outside now. He still preferred the center, though, because it felt safer. Only registered members could come inside, and while Akaashi liked to pretend he wasn’t paranoid, one could never be too careful after seeing what he’s seen. 

“Akaashi!”

“Akaashi-san!”

Two voices called out to him simultaneously, and Akaashi lifted his head. He smiled immediately, standing as a small, orange blur bounced over to him and nearly tackled him in a hug. 

“Sorry we’re late, Akaashi!” Hinata cried, squeezing Akaashi around the waist one more time before stepping away. 

His companion, the taller, raven-haired Kageyama, slowed to a stop next to Hinata. “Yeah, Hinata distracted me with a video on his phone and he didn’t pay attention to the stops, so we missed ours.”

“You could have been paying attention too!” Hinata barked, glaring at Kageyama. 

Kageyama swatted at Hinata, but he moved away too quickly. “I was looking at the video, stupid! That means it was your job to watch for our stop!”

“I was watching the video too,” Hinata mumbled, pouting. 

Akaashi laughed, the teenage boys’ bickering something he was used to. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “Come on, let’s go get changed. I’m ready to practice some volleyball.”

Lifting the collar of his shirt, Akaashi wiped at the sweat gathered around his brow. He was glad he could practice with the boys, especially since he wasn’t working at the time and didn’t want to lose the muscles he’d managed to maintain. He wasn’t sure what was going to motivate him to keep his physique once he moved to France.

Hinata bounced around the court they were using, rambling on about spikes and how cool a match he had watched was. He told Kageyama that he wanted to practice spiking like those players, but Kageyama only told him that he needed to practice his receives. 

Hinata pouted again, then tossed the ball at Kageyama’s head and sprinted toward Akaashi, hiding behind him. Kageyama glared at Hinata, the ball raised, in the ready position to get chucked at Hinata’s head in revenge. He hesitated, though, not wanting to hit Akaashi. 

Akaashi chuckled and held up his hands for the ball. Kageyama tossed it to him in defeat, still glaring at Hinata. 

“I think it’s about time to wrap this up anyway,” Akaashi said, turning and bouncing the volleyball once on Hinata’s head before returning it to its basket. 

Both boys groaned dramatically. 

“But Akaashi! One more? Please?” Hinata whined. 

Kageyama nodded furiously next to him. “And we mean it this time. Just one more, Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi smiled softly, Kageyama and Hinata’s wide, innocent eyes tugging at his heartstrings. But he sighed; as much as he loved spending time with these boys, he knew it was getting late and they had school in the morning. 

“We can practice more on Thursday when I see you two again,” he said. Hinata and Kageyama groaned again but began to gather their things.

Akaashi dropped them off at their homes, Hinata first, then Kageyama. He waited for them to enter their houses, waving back to them as they bid him farewell enthusiastically from the thresholds. Once he knew they were safely inside, he drove home. 

Ascending the steps to his apartment, he fiddled with his keys, readying the one he needed. He rounded the corner of his hallway, immediately noticing the small box placed on the mat outside his door. 

He slowed his approach, trying to remember if he had ordered anything. As he got closer, he saw that the box was unmarked. He was suddenly on edge, his mind jumping to the worst possible scenario. He didn’t think it could be something like a bomb, but he also wasn’t positive about that. 

He crouched and looked closely at the box. He leaned in closer, listening for any ticking or beeping. When he heard none, he poked it gently. It was light, almost like it was empty – probably not a bomb, then. 

Satisfied that he wasn’t going to blow up if he opened it, Akaashi picked it up gently and carried it into his apartment. The first thing he did was inspect his home, ensuring that no one had broken in. He cleared the space, then returned to the box, prying it open carefully.

He found an officer identification badge inside. He lifted it carefully, flipping it open to look at the image of the officer. Akaashi recognized him; he was a young officer that had just joined the Agency before Akaashi went on leave. 

Akaashi grabbed his keys and the box, running out of his apartment and back down the steps to his car. He dialed Daichi, but got no answer, so instead called Kuroo. He informed him that he was coming to the station with evidence.

He found Kuroo and Kenma waiting for him when he arrived. Kuroo took the box, hands already gloved, and disappeared. Kenma shifted on his feet, watching Kuroo go, then turning back to Akaashi. 

“Keiji, what was in the box?” he asked quietly. 

“An identification badge,” Akaashi replied. He checked his phone to see if Daichi had called him back. “It was for the new officer, the one who came before I left.”

Kenma’s eyes widened slightly. “Tanaka?”

Akaashi thought for a moment, then nodded. When Kenma’s face blanched, he frowned. “What is it, Kenma?”

“Tanaka has been missing for three days,” Kenma replied. 

Akaashi felt the blood drain from his face, and he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the door to the station flying open. Akaashi turned to see Daichi standing there, breathing heavily, like he’d been running. 

“Get Kuroo,” he gasped. “And Akaashi, you’re coming too.”

Kenma turned and darted off in the direction Kuroo had gone. Akaashi blinked. 

“Coming where?”

Daichi’s face was dark. “To the latest crime scene. The officer that’s been missing has just been found.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Tanaka.

Bokuto stared at the body propped against the headstone. The man, someone that Bokuto likely would have met had he been around long enough, almost looked like he was sleeping. This was the first victim with his eyes closed; he was a victim of many firsts, in fact. He had no visible stab wounds, no styled hair (though he had no hair to be styled), and, most blaringly, he was male. 

A vehicle arrived on the scene, skidding in the gravel driveway of the cemetery. Bokuto lifted his gaze to the headlights, which flipped off just as he stared at them, leaving blue and yellow colored dots to dance in his vision. He blinked them away, readjusting his vision to the darkness around him, just as Daichi, Kuroo, and Akaashi (Akaashi?) leapt from the car and approached him. 

Kuroo was pulling gloves on, his face serious and dark as he brushed past Bokuto and approached the body. He crouched and reached forward to lift a hand and scrape under the fingernails, but he noticed his own hands trembling. Kuroo sank back on his calves, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He clenched his hands into fists, willing them to still. He had always worked hard to see these victims as people; it was important to him that he never let himself become indifferent to the fact that these are _human beings._

But he never thought he would have to examine the body of a colleague. He knew Tanaka, had lunch with him, joked with him. Sure, they weren’t best friends or anything, but he still had seen him, talked to him, known him on some level beyond a body at a crime scene. He wished, desperately begged, to whatever god or gods might exist to hear him; he wanted, just this once, to be indifferent. He wasn’t sure he could do his job otherwise. 

Kuroo felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped open and up to look at the person touching him. He was surprised to find it was Akaashi. He wasn’t looking at him, but at Tanaka; Akaashi’s mouth was in a straight line, and his were eyes heavy with sympathy. After a moment, he shifted his gaze to Kuroo.

“If you need to take a break, it’s okay. And we can get someone else to do this if you can’t. I understand how this feels,” Akaashi said, his voice even and quiet. 

Kuroo blinked, then nodded, the heaviness in his chest alleviated slightly. He knew Akaashi knew. He knew that Akaashi has felt the sorrow of being too late, of not seeing it before it happened, of feeling like he should have done something different. And despite what he called him, Kuroo knew Akaashi wasn’t stone cold, not really. He knew Akaashi was just hurting, and Kuroo finally got to see that small, vulnerable part of him that he kept so well hidden. He was grateful. 

“I’ll be okay,” Kuroo replied. He took another breath, steadying himself. “I want to be the one to do this.”

Akaashi nodded, then turned back to Daichi and Bokuto. The latter was staring at him, his golden eyes soft. Akaashi blinked and looked away, avoiding any further eye contact. 

Daichi’s jaw was clenched, and he was staring at the body and at Kuroo, eyes blazing. 

“How does this happen?” he asked lowly. “Why is this happening?” He turned to Akaashi then. “Why is this happening, Akaashi?”

It felt as if the world had slowed on its axis, allowing Akaashi to see the turn of the planet. The stars above seemed to creep along the black blanket of sky like onlookers to a car accident, straining their eyes and necks in a morbid curiosity to see the wreckage. Akaashi wondered if Earth really did slow on its axis, would that suspend time? Would it give him enough time to think clearly, to put his emotions and fears of failing (again) aside and put the pieces together? 

He’d always been good at puzzles. When he was a child, he and his sister would spend nights piecing together elaborate puzzles, and it became a game to see just how difficult was too difficult for Akaashi. His sister would get puzzles of bouquets of flowers, skylines, forests – whatever images she could find that easily blurred together. Akaashi would sit on his knees, staring at the pieces, and his brain would find the dips and curves of each unique one, analyzing it and finding its mates. 

He’d only met his match on a puzzle of a literal blue sky, the only distinct patterns it had being a few wisps of clouds in the corners. He had eventually solved it, but it had taken months of concentration and expanded effort. He had even called upon his father to help him at one point, so frustrated that he almost abandoned the project altogether.

This case was his blue sky puzzle. 

Akaashi didn’t answer Daichi, mostly because he genuinely didn’t have answer, but he knew that the exasperation the captain felt was justified. They had already solved this case; they had already dealt with the emotional turbulence that came with its fallout. It was simply torture to keep rehashing it at this point.

Kuroo rejoined them, his face sickly pale. Bokuto gave him a sympathetic look, and Akaashi was reminded of the soft-hearted boy – the one who cared about every person he encountered no matter how little he knew them – that he had been so fond of in high school. He quickly shoved those thoughts back into the box of memories it had rudely escaped from. 

“There are only four stab wounds,” Kuroo said. He spoke robotically. “They’re deep, all in the chest. But they’re close together, I would almost call them sloppy. They’re old, too. He’s been dead for a few days.”

Silence fell over them all again, and Kuroo took a shaky breath before walking away. Bokuto glanced over at the body, now in the process of being removed since Kuroo was finished with his examination. 

“They would need to subdue him more quickly than a woman. He’s stronger, and has the training to fight back,” Bokuto said. “They probably killed him almost immediately.”

He stepped forward, crouching down in front of the headstone that the body had been propped against. It was stained with blood, which looked black in the dim lighting around them. Akaashi crouched next to him and reached out, running his fingers along the name engraved in the cold stone. 

Bokuto watched him carefully, noting how Akaashi’s eyes almost seemed to swim with emotion. He once again felt the pull of the deep, and he had to tear himself away before he began to sink. Akaashi said nothing, just stood abruptly, his shoulders stiff and hunched. 

“There’s nothing left to do here,” Akaashi said, turning back to Daichi. “I need to speak with Kenma.”

Daichi nodded, and Bokuto went to his car as Akaashi and Daichi collected Kuroo and made their way back to the station. 

Kenma was perched on his office chair, legs crossed, spinning around slowly. He felt restless and nervous, finding himself picking at his nails and chewing on his lip. This is what he did while he waited for calls from the officers in the field. He felt utterly useless at times like these, just staring at computer screens and waiting for direction. He wanted to help more, especially now that someone in the Agency had been killed. 

He had always thought the people he worked with were untouchable; it had been a shock when the original killer had been discovered just those few months ago. It had felt unreal, like something out of a cheesy horror movie, but it still hadn’t been someone from the Agency being _killed._

He wasn’t sure what was worse at this point. The Agency had come under a lot of scrutiny from the media after Akaashi had solved the original case. The question they had all asked was a valid one: How do you miss a killer that was right there, literally living and working, right under your nose? Kenma supposed they didn’t understand just how difficult the case had been, how intelligent and crafty that man had been. No one had seen it coming, not even Akaashi. 

But not only did the Agency have the blood of the victims of a serial killer working among them on its hands, now it had the literal blood of one of their own. One of their own, killed and dumped like he was trash; not an ounce of respect given for the sacrifices he had made to protect others, for the life that he lived, for the people that he loved. 

Kenma felt sick to his stomach and stopped turning in his chair. He heard doors open, murmurs of voices, and heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and approaching his office. He shifted to look at the door as Akaashi entered the room, his skin even paler than before. 

“Keiji,” Kenma breathed, and Akaashi stopped next to Kenma’s chair. Kenma stared up at him, trying to evaluate the unreadable expression on his friend’s hallowed face. 

“Kenma, I need to see the names of every victim that’s been discovered so far,” Akaashi said. 

Kenma nodded, swiveling in his chair and sliding closer to one of the computers positioned on his desk. He pulled up the Agency database, bringing forth the files of each victim in the case his team was working. The digital case files popped up on the screen, and Kenma lined them up next to each other for Akaashi to see. 

Akaashi leaned in closely to the screen, scanning his eyes over the information. He ran down the list of personal information gathered on each victim, mentally cataloguing any important details that might connect them.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. 

“Kenma,” Akaashi said, pointing at the screen. “Look at these people. What do they all have in common?”

Kenma stared at the screen, following Akaashi’s finger. He ran his eyes over the first victim’s profile, not noticing anything special, until his eyes landed on occupation. 

_Occupation: NPA Officer, Status: Training._

Kenma glanced over at the next two victims. The girl found at the train station had the same last name of an officer in another unit, one that Kenma only recognized because when he had entered the information, the officer’s name had popped up on the screen. She was his sister. 

The girl at the university didn’t seem to have any connection at first, until Kenma glanced over her list of relatives and saw the name of that same officer, the one whose sister was found at the train station, listed as _fiancé._

And finally, most notably, the fourth victim, Tanaka, _was_ an active officer. 

Kenma sat back in his chair, staring wide-eyed at his screen. 

“Keiji, all these people are connected to the Agency,” he said. 

Akaashi nodded. “These killers aren’t just targeting random people. Before, the girls were random, with hardly any similarities besides their age and vulnerability. They were easy targets, trusting and willing. But these people were not those kinds of victims. They wouldn’t trust strangers; they wouldn’t allow themselves to be tricked so easily.” 

Kenma nodded. “This isn’t just about killing,” he mumbled. 

Akaashi stood and ran a hand over his face, sighing. “This is about revenge.”

Kuroo appeared in the doorway, looking sullen and exhausted. “Akaashi, Daichi wants to see you in his office.”

Akaashi turned and exited the room, giving Kuroo’s shoulder a squeeze as he passed him. 

Kenma frowned at Kuroo, watching him for a moment before sliding out of his chair and crossing the space between them. Kuroo remained silent, only staring at his feet until Kenma invaded the space. Kenma wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s waist and pressed his face into the taller man’s chest. Kuroo returned the hug, resting his forehead on the top of Kenma’s head and breathing in deeply. 

Akaashi glanced over his shoulder, watching the silent exchange between the two before he entered Daichi’s office. He knew Kuroo would stay with Kenma, and he knew Kenma would know what to say when the time was right. Akaashi could only offer so much support to Kuroo; Kenma was the only one who really knew what to say. 

Daichi was sitting at his desk, his hands pressed against his eyes, when Akaashi entered. He looked up when he heard him, leaning back in his chair as Akaashi sat down across from him. He felt weary, like he hadn’t slept in days. 

“Akaashi, what are you thinking?” he asked. 

Akaashi took a moment to gather his thoughts, sifting through the chaos to pluck out the ones that were the most important in that moment. 

“Daichi, that officer was posed on the grave of the girl I couldn’t save,” he finally said. 

Daichi stared at him, eyes wide. “You mean…”

“The last girl that was killed,” Akaashi said. “I held her in my arms while she died. That’s where they put that officer. And they put his badge in front of my apartment. This isn’t just some random group of people killing because they’re fanatical about the original murders. Sure, maybe they’re copycats, but this is about revenge. And even if they’re copycats, they’re good at this, because they’ve shown that they can kill one of our own and we won’t even notice until it’s too late.”

Daichi pressed his lips together, trying to contain the emotions bubbling inside his chest. He felt angry, desperate, useless, among other things. He wanted to scream, and he wanted to hide. He was going to have to tell this officer’s family in the morning; inform yet another group of good people that someone has died under his watch. And this time it hit much closer to home.

A wave of nausea rolled over him, and Daichi took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves. Then he raised his eyes, meeting Akaashi’s directly. 

“You know what I’m going to ask you,” he said. 

Akaashi nodded. 

“I can’t do this without you, Akaashi.”

“I’m not employed here any longer.”

“But you are employed at Interpol, at least technically. I know you haven’t had any formal inductions, but I can contact its director. I can ask for an extension on your transfer, reinstate you as a consulting officer here with the Agency. You know our director would take you back in a heartbeat, even if it were just temporary.” Daichi leaned forward. “Please, Akaashi. I’m begging you.”

Akaashi stared at Daichi. The moments passed slowly, and Daichi felt anxiety pooling in his stomach with every tick of the clock on the wall. Finally, Akaashi nodded. 

“Make whatever calls you need to make. I’m staying until this is solved.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you all ready to meet the original killer?

Akaashi steps carefully into the darkened warehouse. His gun is unholstered, gripped tightly in clammy hands. He wishes he wasn’t nervous, tries to steady his breathing, and checks his surroundings.

He’s not scared. He just doesn’t want to face the truth of the situation. There’s no way he’s right. There must be some explanation, something he just hasn’t seen yet. But the fact that he’s entering this building alone is enough to remind him that he’s not wrong.

He walks slowly with his back pressed against the wall, making sure his steps are silent. When he reaches the corner, he peers around the junction, gun poised by his hip, and looks for any movement. He sees none. 

He rounds the corner, repeats the process, until an open space of floor comes into view. The light is dim, but he can see a figure standing in the shadows. They are gripping the girl Akaashi is there for by her arm. He watches the knife bury itself into her chest, and she cries out. The shadow-clad individual thrusts her forward, and she crumples to the floor in a heap. 

Akaashi cries out, aims, shoots at the shadow figure. He doesn’t bother to check where the bullet found its home. He rushes forward, gathers the wounded girl in his arms, and watches the various wounds on her mangled body seep blood into his shirt.

She gasps, blood gurgling out of her mouth like her throat is a clogged drain and the liquid can’t move further down. She’s staring right into his eyes, and she reaches up to touch Akaashi’s cheek…

A hand on his shoulder jolts Akaashi awake. He sits up so abruptly that his desk chair almost tips backwards. He paws at the desk, gripping the edge to regain balance, gasping for air the entire time. 

“Hey, whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Iwaizumi placed a broad hand between Akaashi’s shoulder blades, steadying him. 

Akaashi pushed a shaky hand through his messy hair, now damp with sweat and plastered on his forehead. He blinked a few times to regain composure, focusing on Iwaizumi’s hand on his back and not on the bloody images still floating behind his eyes. 

“I brought you a coffee,” Iwaizumi said, placing a cup from a place down the street next to Akaashi. He reached across the aisle between their desks and rolled his own chair over, plopping down next to Akaashi and taking a sip of his own coffee. 

Akaashi snatched his drink up and took a couple gulps, ignoring the way the scalding hot liquid burned the sensitive insides of his throat on the way down. The pain helped him refocus, anchoring him to the real, tangible, waking world where it was less likely his brain would torture him as graphically. 

Not to mention, the more coffee he drank, the less he slept. And the less he slept, the less he dreamt about _that_ night. 

“Thank you,” he croaked out. He coughed, his body rejecting the way he was relentlessly torturing it. 

Iwaizumi stared at Akaashi over the rim of his cup with wide eyes. The man looked half dead. He made a mental note to get Akaashi iced coffees from here on out so he wouldn’t scald himself again. 

“Did you sleep here?” he asked.

Akaashi stared at the surface of his desk like he was trying to decide if he had, in fact, slept on it. Finally, he nodded, seemingly coming to terms with it.

“Daichi is going to yell at you if you start acting like a lunatic again and start sleeping here regularly,” Iwaizumi chastised. He leaned forward to tuck the crinkled collar of Akaashi’s shirt down, patting it into place. It didn’t do much for the rest of the wrinkles covering his button-down, but he looked a little less disheveled. 

“Daichi is going to treat me like royalty so I don’t walk out on this investigation,” Akaashi replied. 

“Please, like you would walk out after you already committed yourself.” Iwaizumi grinned. “This case could never get solved and you would spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out.”

Akaashi sighed and pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to massage away the headache forming there. “If this case doesn’t get solved soon, I’m probably going to meet an untimely death due to sleep deprivation.”

The double doors to the station opened and Daichi walked in, Kuroo and Kenma only a few steps behind. Daichi’s eyes immediately landed on Akaashi and Iwaizumi. 

“Akaashi, you’d better go home and shower. I’m not working with you when you smell like sweat and are wearing the same clothes from two days ago,” he barked, climbing the steps to his office. 

Kuroo followed him, grinning. “Akaashi, you can use my safety shower station,” he called over his shoulder. 

“No, he needs to go home,” Daichi replied from the doorway of his office. He glared down at Akaashi. “This is not a place to sleep. I don’t want to see you in this building until after lunchtime.” With that, he slammed his office door shut, making sure his point was made. 

Kenma had walked over to Akaashi and Iwaizumi, and he placed a brown paper bag on Akaashi’s desk. “Kuroo and I stopped at a café on the way here. I got you a bagel.”

Akaashi smiled wearily at the quiet man, who smiled back and reached out to touch his arm gently before going to the steps and entering his own office. Iwaizumi stood and pushed his chair back to his desk. 

“Well, you heard Captain,” he said to Akaashi. “We’ll see you after lunch.”

Akaashi rose and grabbed his coffee and bagel. Daichi was right, he knew that, but he still wanted to stay and keep working. But his shoulders were tight, and his neck was stiff from sleeping against the desk all night, and he really did need a shower. While Kuroo’s safety shower offer was enticing, Akaashi knew Daichi might physically kick him out of the building if he found him there before one in the afternoon. 

He was about to walk out the doors, digging around in his pants pocket to find his keys, when he almost walked right into someone’s chest. Akaashi stumbled backwards, frantically trying to regain control of his coffee and not spill it. The liquid was much too precious to drop. 

Broad, strong hands steadied him, gripping his upper arms. Akaashi looked up, finding himself face to face with Bokuto, who was eyeing him with concern. Akaashi jerked out of his hold, scrunching his nose up in irritation. He wasn’t totally sure why that was his immediate reaction, and he pretended to not see the look of hurt that fluttered over Bokuto’s features just briefly. 

“Don’t touch me,” Akaashi spat, curling away defensively. 

Bokuto glared back. “You’re the one who ran into me, Akaashi. Maybe you should look where you’re walking.”

Akaashi opened his mouth to retort, but he realized that Bokuto was right, so he just snapped it shut instead and glared at his coffee. Some of it had spilled out of the opening in the lid and had pooled in the ridges. Akaashi brought it to his mouth to sip it up. 

“You look like hell. Go home and get some rest,” Bokuto said.

Akaashi looked back up to glare at him again, irritated that Bokuto thought he could tell him what to do, but Bokuto’s features were soft. The corners of his mouth were pulled down into a worried frown. 

He couldn’t find the energy in him to argue, nor did he want to, so Akaashi just nodded and walked out the door. Bokuto watched him go for a moment, then turned and walked over to his own desk. Iwaizumi eyed him, not even looking up when Oikawa walked in and bounced over to him. 

“Iwa-chan, did you buy me coffee?” Oikawa asked, plopping down on the desk. 

Iwaizumi glared at him. “No. Why would I buy you coffee when you always come in here and put your ass on my desk?”

Oikawa pouted. “Mean.” Then he turned his attention to Bokuto, who was staring at the case files piled on his desk. “Bokuto, I saw Akaashi on my way in. He looked grumpy. Did you two have another not-nice interaction?”

“Bokuto and Akaashi only have ‘not-nice’ interactions, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said. 

Bokuto sighed. “I genuinely don’t know what his problem is.”

“You knew each other in high school, right?” Iwaizumi asked. “Did you guys like, not get along or something?”

“Uh…” Bokuto tapped nervously on one of the files. “No. We got along just fine.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchanged glances, and Oikawa leaned closer to Iwaizumi, shielding his mouth with his hand in a mock display of whispering.

“Oh, they got along just _fine_ , Iwa-chan,” he cooed, giggling.

Iwaizumi chuckled, then full out laughed when Bokuto chucked a pen across the room and it bounced off Oikawa’s head. 

When Akaashi returned to the station that afternoon, he brought with him a to go box filled with Daichi’s favorite ramen. He wasn’t normally one to suck up to his superiors, but Daichi could be scary and Akaashi decided a peace offering was in order. 

He knocked on the doorframe of Daichi’s office, mostly just to alert him of his presence. As soon as Daichi saw him, he glanced toward the clock to ensure Akaashi hadn’t come back earlier than he was told. 

“I brought you ramen,” Akaashi said sheepishly, holding up the box. 

Daichi smiled. “Good, because I haven’t eaten lunch.”

Akaashi entered the office and sat down across from Daichi’s desk, handing him the food. “You know, it’s a little hypocritical of you to demand I don’t come back until after lunch so I can accomplish self-care, but then you don’t even eat lunch yourself.”

“I don’t sleep at my desk and wear the same clothes for two days,” Daichi replied as he popped the box open. “I think, compared to that, a late lunch is pretty normal.”

Akaashi only shrugged in response, then eyed the case file that Daichi had set aside. He plucked it off the corner of the desk, flipping it open to stare at the photos inside. 

“Another body was found this morning,” Daichi explained around the noodles in his mouth.

“That’s the second one this week,” Akaashi said, glaring at the photos. “This makes three victims in less than a week and a half. That’s a major escalation.”

“This last one was a witness in the original case, too,” Daichi added. “The media is going crazy. Some people have been saying we caught the wrong guy originally.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes and tossed the file back on the corner of the desk. “That’s absurd. Like we would willingly incriminate a member of the Agency without solid proof. Do they think we just sit at our desks and play a matching game with murder victims and random people? How ludicrous.”

Daichi couldn’t help but chuckle. Akaashi was incredibly sensitive about the original case, that much was obvious, but he was also prideful of his job and his colleagues. He didn’t take his work lightly, and he defended the Agency and everything they did fiercely. That was the number one reason Daichi never let Akaashi speak to the media, _ever._

“Listen,” Daichi said, setting his lunch aside. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Akaashi only looked at Daichi, waiting quietly. 

“The director wants me to stay at the head of this investigation, but Oikawa and Iwaizumi have their own going on as well, so the director doesn’t want me in the field that much.”

Akaashi didn’t like where this was going. 

“So…” Daichi drummed his fingers, ignoring the glare Akaashi was giving him, “the director asked me to put you on the case as Bokuto’s partner.”

Akaashi opened his mouth to protest, but Daichi held up a hand, effectively cutting him off. 

“It’s pretty obvious that you’re not a fan of his,” he said. “But I am asking you to set personal feelings aside for the sake of your job. It’s only temporary, and I wouldn’t even ask it of you if there were any other way. But Oikawa and Iwaizumi can’t take your place, nor do we want them to, and this is what the director is requesting. Do you think you can handle it?”

Akaashi prickled at Daichi’s comment of him not being a fan of Bokuto. It wasn’t necessarily untrue, but it also wasn’t wholly true. Akaashi’s feelings were complicated, and in another time and place, he might confide in Daichi about that. But his comment to Bokuto when they had first met again - _This is the real world, and people are dying._ \- bounced around in his brain. He couldn’t run around dishing out those kinds of scathing remarks and not live by them himself. 

This _was_ the real world. People _were_ dying. There was no time for his petty feelings at the moment. 

“Fine,” Akaashi muttered. Just because there wasn’t time for those feelings didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pout about it a little. 

“Great.” Daichi clapped his hands together. “I asked Bokuto to come to my office when you came back so we could talk about where to go from here.”

As if on cue, Bokuto appeared in the doorway. Akaashi immediately scooted his chair back a little, earning an eye roll from Bokuto and a disapproving look (that remarkably resembled the looks Akaashi’s father used to give him as a child) from Daichi. Bokuto entered and sat in the chair next to Akaashi, making sure to keep himself angled away from the other as much as possible. He didn’t want to play this game, but he would if he had to. 

“Bokuto, have you and Kenma had any luck narrowing down the suspect pool?” Daichi asked. 

Bokuto shook his head. “There has hardly been any correspondence to and from the prison, only a few letters, and they were all unsigned. They were certainly fanatical, but we can’t trace them. Kenma has been searching all kinds of websites, and he found a few people that seemed to fit the profile we’re looking for, but I doubt any of them could be capable of this.”

“And why’s that?” Akaashi asked. He realized his tone was a little accusing, almost suggesting that Bokuto wasn’t doing his job well. He hadn’t meant it, but Bokuto still picked up on it and met Akaashi’s gaze with an intense glare.

“Because they’re teenagers,” he said, his tone just as biting as Akaashi’s. 

Akaashi swallowed and nodded. “Oh.”

“Kenma and I came up with an idea, but I don’t know if either of you will like it,” Bokuto said, purposely not looking at either Daichi or Akaashi. When neither replied, he figured they were waiting for him to continue.

“We were thinking that maybe the original killer has more influence on this than we think. We asked the prison to stop all correspondence to or from the outside world, but who knows what he’s said already.” Bokuto coughed nervously. “We were thinking maybe we should go interview him.”

“No,” Daichi replied, speaking before Bokuto even finished his sentence. 

Bokuto visibly deflated. He had really been hoping that his suggestion would be met with enthusiasm.

Daichi sighed. “It’s not a bad idea, it’s just –” he began.

“We should do it,” Akaashi interrupted. Daichi immediately snapped his attention to him, his mouth dangling open. In his peripheral, Akaashi could see Bokuto staring at him, and he could only guess that the man was giving him that ridiculously optimistic look he used to when they were teenagers. Akaashi pointedly ignored it. 

“Akaashi, are you sure?” Daichi asked. He was treading carefully, hoping that his words about Akaashi putting his feelings aside weren’t being taken too seriously. There was a difference between acting professionally even with someone you don’t care for and willingly throwing yourself into situations that could trigger a slew of unpleasant reactions. Daichi didn’t want Akaashi so emotionally crippled from an interview that he would have to give up working the case.

“If nothing else, we can rule out that he’s involved at all. If he is, that will narrow the suspect pool. If he isn’t, we can at least give some promising information to the media,” Akaashi replied. Then he turned his gaze fully to Bokuto, who was indeed giving him the all too familiar look from high school. “I have one condition for this, though.”

Bokuto blinked and nodded. He wasn’t about to argue with Akaashi, especially when Kenma had warned him that he might get physically attacked for even suggesting the whole thing.

“I want to be the one to conduct the interview,” Akaashi said. He looked at Daichi as well, making sure that Daichi didn’t bother debating with him about it. 

Daichi and Bokuto both nodded, and Daichi picked up the phone to make a call to the prison.

______________________

The halls of the prison were empty and cold. Bokuto wondered if the people in these walls ever saw the sun, or was it just filtered through a gray layer of film that perpetually muted its brightness and warmth? He shivered even though it was warm outside.

A guard was guiding them to an interview room. He unlocked the door with a key card and gestured them inside. There was a room to the right of the one they entered, a box really, with a table and two chairs. The table had an inset carved into the top with an iron bar securely welded in. An identical iron bar was welded into the floor under the table. Bokuto couldn’t be sure, but he was willing to bet the chair on that side of the table was bolted down. 

The room they entered had a large window on the wall facing the interview room – a two-way mirror for observation. Daichi agreed that he would stay on this side of the window during the interview, but he insisted that Bokuto be in the room as Akaashi conducted the interview. He said it wasn’t because he didn’t trust Akaashi, but because he didn’t trust who was about to be in that room with him. 

Akaashi pulled the door to the interview room shut, ensuring that the three of them were hidden from view. He had the case files gripped tightly in his hands, and Bokuto noticed the sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead. Akaashi was nervous. 

The guard told them they would be bringing the prisoner soon. Within minutes, another door opened in the interview room, and the three of them watched as the guards nudged the prisoner through the door. He was shackled at his wrists and ankles. Bokuto was surprised for a moment, having been in prisons and interviewed prisoners before, but they were usually never so heavily shackled. Then he remembered that this was a maximum-security facility, and this prisoner was sentenced to life, the second highest punishment next to the death sentence. Prisoners in these types of facilities weren’t given the freedoms other prisoners were. 

The prisoner plopped into the chair, allowing the guards to adjust his shackles and clip them into place on the iron bars. He was staring at the mirror, his narrow eyes cold and expressionless. Akaashi was staring right back; though he couldn’t actually see, it was as if the prisoner knew exactly where Akaashi was standing. The guards finished their work and exited out the door they had come through. The prisoner didn’t move. A few minutes passed. 

“Are you ready for this?” Daichi asked Akaashi. 

Akaashi nodded and stepped across the small room to reach for a temperature dial. He turned the temperature of the interview room down significantly. 

“What are you doing that for?” Bokuto asked.

“I want to make him uncomfortable,” Akaashi replied.

They waited a few more minutes, then Akaashi took a deep breath. He glanced at Bokuto, silently asking him if he were ready, to which Bokuto nodded. Akaashi swung the door open and entered the interview room. 

The room was effectively chilled, and the chair Akaashi sat in seeped its cold through his clothes. He suppressed a shiver, sitting with his back straight and ignoring the gaze of the man across from him. His heart was racing, but he refused to let his nerves show. He was well trained in schooling his expressions and not letting others, especially suspects and prisoners, see his emotions. He wasn’t about to let this particular one break through the mask, no matter who he was.

Bokuto positioned himself in the corner, leaning on it casually and crossing his arms. He wanted to keep his distance, let Akaashi do his work. The other man at the table didn’t even glance his way; instead, he kept his gaze fixed intently on Akaashi, searching for any chink in the armor. Bokuto was pleased when Akaashi showed none.

After a brief standoff, Akaashi keeping his eyes lowered as he meticulously set the case files side by side, the prisoner leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms in front of him as they stayed shackled in place, and grinned deviously. 

“Keiji, what a pleasant surprise,” he cooed.

“Konoha,” Akaashi replied. His voice had no inflection. Bokuto was impressed. 

“Aw, we aren’t on first name basis anymore? What a shame, _Akaashi_ ,” Konoha said, articulating Akaashi’s name carefully.

“There have been new murders,” Akaashi said, ignoring Konoha’s teasing. He reached for the first file, flipping it open and plopping it on the table in front of Konoha. “Someone is trying to mimic your work. Do you know anything about that?”

Konoha didn’t even spare the file a once over with his eyes. He just continued to grin at Akaashi, shaking his head slightly to flick his dusty blonde hair out of his face. Akaashi raised his eyes to stare back at him, his face utterly expressionless. Bokuto suddenly felt very much like a third wheel. 

“How have you been, Akaashi?” Konoha asked. “I’ve been so worried about you. I know everything really came as a shock to you. I’ll admit, I dream about that look on your face every night. You know, the one you had when you saw me in the warehouse? When you had to finally accept that it was me? Remember that?”

“These murders are remarkably similar to yours.” Akaashi spoke in a monotone, opening another case file and setting it by the first. “Obviously you can’t be the one committing them, but the Agency felt you could provide valuable insight to who might be.”

Bokuto noted how Akaashi never said “I” or “me” or even “we.” In fact, he named no one in particular. He named the Agency instead. He was keeping the conversation carefully impersonal. 

“You look tired,” Konoha replied, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Have you been sleeping well? Having nightmares, hmm?” Then he sighed. “I remember when you used to have nightmares, how scared you would be after waking up from them. Remember how I used to comfort you?”

Konoha’s eyes flicked over to Bokuto, and he grinned maniacally. Then his gaze returned to Akaashi. 

“I see you got a new partner. Does he help you with your nightmares the same way I did?” Konoha leaned forward in his chair, sliding to the edge of it and getting his face as close to Akaashi as he could manage. Akaashi didn’t move a centimeter. Konoha’s voice was lower when he spoke again: “Is he as good as I was? You know, I’ve thought about finding myself a new little bitch in here. But I don’t think any of them could moan my name as sweetly as you did.”

The room suddenly felt like it was on fire, and Bokuto frantically suppressed the blush creeping across his cheeks. He suddenly understood just why Akaashi was so sensitive about this case, and why Daichi was so protective of Akaashi. He had known Konoha had been a detective in the Agency, but it had never occurred to him that he and Akaashi had been partners. Nor had it occurred to him that he and Akaashi been partners in more ways than just detective work. 

Akaashi, impressively, showed no reaction. He didn’t even blush. Instead, he turned to look at Bokuto. 

“Bokuto-san, would you mind stepping out?” he asked, his voice even. 

Bokuto nodded, immediately turning and exiting the room. He clicked the door shut behind him and met Daichi’s gaze. The captain had his lips curled in and pressed together tightly, and he looked positively irritated. 

“I didn’t realize they were…” Bokuto whispered, though he knew Akaashi and Konoha couldn’t hear him. 

Daichi shook his head. “I’m the only one who knows, and I didn’t even know until after we caught him and Akaashi told me.”

Inside the interview room, Akaashi flipped the rest of the file folders open. He placed them in front of Konoha and placed his hands flat on the table, soaking in the chill from the metal and willing it to calm his rapid heartbeat. 

“Are you done?” he asked. He managed to keep his tone even despite the fire that was burning inside of him. He had expected Konoha to reveal what Akaashi kept so carefully guarded, but he was furious that he had done it in such a vulgar way.

Konoha grinned again and leaned back in his chair, readjusting himself to sit more comfortably. He finally gave the photos his attention, scanning over them, an eyebrow quirking up when he reached Tanaka’s photo. 

“Doesn’t seem like much of a copycat murder to me,” he said. “I didn’t kill men.”

“I never said they were copycats. I said they were similar.”

Konoha shrugged. “I don’t know what exactly you want me to say.”

“Do you have any idea who might want to mimic your work?” Akaashi asked. 

“What makes you think I would even consider helping the Agency? You all put me in _here._ ”

“You act like that wasn’t justified.”

Konoha scoffed. “What wasn’t justified was you shooting me in the stomach. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere. You already knew it was me."

“I’m so sorry, did that bother you?” Akaashi couldn’t help the sarcastic edge in his voice.

The only response he got was a cold glare. Konoha lowered his eyes to the photos of the victims. Akaashi followed his gaze, watched as Konoha stared intently at the stab wounds on each victim; then he frowned and huffed. 

“How sloppy,” he muttered. 

Akaashi stood and gathered up the file folders. He banged his fist against the door that Konoha had come in through, calling to the guards and letting them know he was finished. Then he crossed the room and opened the door to the observation room. As the guards entered and began to unclip Konoha, Akaashi glanced over his shoulder. 

“Hey, Konoha,” he called. Konoha looked up at him. “Just so you know, given the chance again, I would shoot you in the head, not the stomach.”

Konoha narrowed his eyes and snarled at Akaashi, who just turned and shut the door behind him. Bokuto and Daichi were watching him carefully, saying nothing but asking a million questions with their eyes. 

“The killers aren’t copycats,” Akaashi finally said. 

“Then what are they?” Daichi asked. 

Akaashi glanced through the window and stared at the spot where Konoha had been sitting just moments ago. His heartrate was beginning to return to normal, and he could feel himself starting to tremble as he came down from the adrenaline. 

Finally, he looked at Daichi and Bokuto, and the other two were startled to find Akaashi’s expression pained and full of emotion. Bokuto felt his chest ache, wanting desperately to comfort Akaashi but knowing he would probably just get punched. 

“They’re disciples,” Akaashi muttered. 

He turned, then, and exited the observation room. Bokuto and Daichi followed slowly, and a guard was waiting there to guide them out of the dark, cold prison and back into the sun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama and Hinata are so much fun to write.

Akaashi’s words replayed in Daichi’s head: 

_“Konoha called the stab wounds sloppy. He’s a narcissistic sociopath. He would be furious if someone else were copying his work; he took pride in what he did. He didn’t even care that someone was mimicking him. Instead he was irritated that the wounds weren’t as clean as his. He demands excessive admiration, and sloppy, mediocre stab wounds did nothing but offend him. He’s teaching these people what to do, and he was mad that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.”_

Daichi punched the top of his desk. How could this happen? How could he have _let_ it happen? How was Konoha _still_ playing them, even behind bars?

Akaashi walked through the doors of the recreation center, willing his legs to carry him through the night. He wanted so desperately to go home and go to bed, but Hinata and Kageyama were waiting for him, and he only had limited time left with them. He just hoped he could put on enough of a façade that the boys wouldn’t be concerned.

He could never be that lucky, though. 

Hinata leapt off the bench he and Kageyama shared as soon as Akaashi entered the building. He bounded over to him and threw himself around Akaashi in an enthusiastic hug, and Akaashi returned it as tightly as he could. 

But Hinata was a perceptive child, and he immediately tilted his head to the side when he stepped away from Akaashi. 

“You look tired, Akaashi,” he said, his forehead crinkling with concern. “Are you sick?”

Kageyama approached them and adopted Hinata’s worried look. “Akaashi-san, you don’t look well.”

Akaashi tried to muster a genuine smile, but he could only manage a small twitch at the corners of his mouth. He sighed at the absolutely mortified look the boys gave him. 

“It’s been a tough day,” he said, trying to play it off as something casual. He never discussed work with Hinata and Kageyama, but they knew what he did.

“Do you want to cancel tonight?” Hinata asked.

Kageyama nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we don’t need to practice tonight. You should go home and rest.”

Akaashi’s chest warmed with affection. He wanted to pull them both into tight hugs and tell them how important they were to him, but he was sure that would just freak them out more. Instead, he managed to give them a genuine smile. 

“No, that’s not necessary. I want to spend time with you. It helps distract me.”

Hinata bounced on the balls of his feet. “Oh! What if we just go get dinner or something instead?”

Kageyama swatted Hinata on the back of the head. “Idiot! You can’t just volunteer Akaashi-san to buy us dinner. And I know _you_ don’t have any money.”

Hinata rubbed the tender spot on his head, glaring at Kageyama. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant Akaashi could rest then instead of playing volleyball! And how do you know I don’t have any money?”

“Because you asked me to buy you a candy bar on the way home after school, dummy.”

Akaashi laughed, gaining the attention of the bickering teenagers. “That’s actually a really good idea,” he said. “Dinner, I mean. I didn’t have lunch today and I’m starving. And I don’t mind buying. Come on.”

They left the recreation center and strolled down the street, Hinata chatting incessantly about his English class and how he just didn’t understand why he needed to learn English. Kageyama agreed heartily, mentioning that they both failed their exams and needed to retake them. Akaashi offered to tutor them, and they both leapt for joy. 

When they reached the sushi shop Akaashi had suggested, Hinata and Kageyama raced to a booth in the corner and slid in the opposite seats at the same time. 

“I totally won,” Kageyama panted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Nuh uh! My butt hit the seat before yours did!” Hinata insisted, smacking the bench for emphasis.

“That doesn’t count, you’re lower to the ground than I am.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re a giraffe!”

Akaashi chuckled as he slid into the booth next to Hinata, who beamed and smirked at Kageyama. 

“Akaashi would rather sit next to me!” Hinata stuck his tongue out. 

“He’s just trying to keep you in place because you run around more than a toddler,” Kageyama retorted, scrunching his nose. 

Akaashi would never tell them that he actually sat next to Hinata because that seat was against the wall, therefore Akaashi could watch the door.

After their food arrived, Hinata and Kageyama bickered about who had the better kind of sushi. They opted to swap pieces to test, then made Akaashi try each kind and be the judge. Akaashi gave them a middle of the road answer, causing them to bicker some more, but they settled on each of them having different tastes, so it didn’t really matter.

“So, other than failing English exams,” Akaashi said after they had made their decisions, “how is school going? Are you passing your other classes?”

Hinata nodded. “Yup! I actually got a really high score on my last mathematics test. Thanks for tutoring me, Akaashi! You’re so smart, there’s nothing you don’t know.”

Akaashi smiled. “That’s great, Hinata. I don’t know about there being nothing I don’t know, but I’m happy to tutor you in whatever subject. Both of you. What about you, Kageyama? How is your classical Japanese coming along?”

Kageyama shrugged. “Probably not much better than English, honestly, but I passed that exam.”

“Barely,” Hinata muttered, and Kageyama kicked him under the table.

“Bring all of the subjects you two need help with next week. We’ll practice some volleyball and then I’ll work with you both,” Akaashi said, nudging Kageyama’s foot away from Hinata’s shin. They were causing a ruckus and people were starting to stare. 

“Thank you!” they replied in unison. 

“Akaashi-san,” Kageyama said, suddenly sounding insecure. He fiddled with his chopsticks for a second before continuing, “Have you seen the news reports of all those people who were killed?”

The blood in Akaashi’s veins turned to ice.

“Yeah, one of them was a police officer, right?” Hinata asked. His eyes were wide with apprehension. “Did you know him, Akaashi?”

“I did,” Akaashi replied, folding his hands together to curb their trembling. “But those aren’t things you two need to worry about.”

“Everyone is talking about it at school,” Kageyama said. “Someone in my class told me that her parents won’t let her out at night anymore.”

“Someone in my class said the same thing,” Hinata added. “He said that his dad said these aren’t like the ones that happened a few months ago. He said the killers will go after anyone, even boys.”

Akaashi’s chest clenched and he turned in his seat to face both boys properly. “Hey, listen to me.” 

Kageyama and Hinata gave him their full attention, and Akaashi’s heart broke at the obvious fear they were carrying. 

“You both know that I’m an officer. And I can promise you that I will never let anything happen to you. I believe with all my heart that you two are safe. I would tell you if I thought you should do something else to keep yourselves safe. No matter what, you never walk alone through the city. But I’ve already told you both that, haven’t I?”

The boys nodded. 

“Good,” Akaashi continued. “I want you both to look out for each other. And stay in contact with me. Don’t worry about texting me too much. I’ll always have time for you, and I would rather know you’re safe and all about what you’re doing every day of the week then wait until we see each other. I promise that I’ll keep you both safe, okay?”

Hinata hugged Akaashi and Kageyama nodded, smiling. 

“Thank you, Akaashi!” Hinata said into his chest. “That makes me feel so much better!”

Akaashi smiled and patted Hinata on the head, hugging the boy back tightly. They finished their meals, and Akaashi took them for ice cream before taking them home. As always, he watched them enter their houses before he drove away. Kageyama’s mother was waiting for him on the steps to their home, and she waved sweetly at Akaashi as he dropped the boy off. Akaashi waved back, praying that both boys and their families would remain safe and he could keep his promises to them. 

As he drove toward his apartment building, Akaashi’s cell phone began to ring. He glanced down at it, but the caller ID was unknown. He ignored it, assuming if it were anyone important, they would leave a voicemail. He parked behind his building and gathered his belongings. 

As he opened the car door, his cell phone rang again. It was another unknown caller. Akaashi sighed and rolled his eyes. Did these people not know how to leave a message?

He tapped the green button on his screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Akaashi Keiji.”

It was silent, except for some static. Akaashi glanced at the screen, making sure the call had connected. The timer was ticking away.

“Hello?” he asked. 

“I know who is killing these people,” a voice on the other end said. It was muffled and quiet. Akaashi couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. 

“Who is this?”

“Go to the Shinjuku Station tomorrow at two. Your information will be waiting for you there.”

“Wait, who is this?” Akaashi asked. He looked at his screen right as it flashed, and the call ended. He pressed the callback button, but the call didn’t connect. He stared at his phone for a moment, contemplating what he should do. He opted to text Daichi, tell him what had just happened, and told him he would have Kenma trace the call in the morning. 

He exited his car. As he turned to walk toward the front of the building, he noticed a car he didn’t recognize parked on the street. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if one of his neighbors had a guest. He shook his head, pushing away paranoid thoughts; he lived in Tokyo, it was normal to see cars he didn’t recognize. 

He checked his mail, then climbed the steps to his apartment. He found no unmarked boxes outside his door, and the sweep of his home confirmed that no one had broken in and was lying in wait for him. He clicked the lights off in the kitchen and living room, preparing to go to bed. As he entered his bedroom, he couldn’t help but peer around the curtain.

He had a clear view of the street from his bedroom window. The car that he had seen on his way in was no longer there. He scanned the street to see if it had moved, and when he didn’t see it, he made sure his window was locked and went to bed.

______________________

Kenma glared at his computer screen as if it had personally wronged him. How dare technology not give him the answers he needed? Akaashi was lounging in a chair next to him, swaying back and forth slightly as he watched Kenma work. His quiet presence was always welcome in Kenma’s office, unlike Bokuto’s boisterous one. (Kenma didn’t mind him, he just wished he were a little quieter, instead of bursting through the door when he needed something, scaring the wits out of Kenma.)

He knew Akaashi wasn’t fond of Bokuto, and from what Bokuto had said, it seemed they had history. Kenma was curious, but Akaashi only volunteered information he wanted known. If Kenma asked about it, no matter how close they were, Akaashi wouldn’t give him a straight answer. Just like he had never given a straight answer about Konoha, though Kenma had pieced that together on his own. He’d suspected many things, but when Akaashi took a leave of absence from the NPA after Konoha’s arrest, submitted his resignation three months later, and texted Kenma drunk, crying about a broken heart and what it felt like to be stabbed in the back, Kenma had been positive. 

He never said anything, though, because he couldn’t imagine how Akaashi felt. He had tried to empathize, tried to imagine Kuroo betraying him like that, but it had hurt too badly (and it was just an imagined scenario), so he’d stopped. 

Kenma sighed and flopped back against his chair, bouncing his head off the cushy headrest. Akaashi looked over at him inquisitively.

“I’ve got nothing,” Kenma said, pointing to the screen. “I found the general location that the call came from, but I couldn’t pinpoint it or see what number it came from. After they called, they either turned the phone off or destroyed it. My guess is that they used a burner phone. They’re basically impossible to trace.”

It was Akaashi’s turn to sigh. He stood and grabbed his phone from Kenma’s desk. “Thanks anyway Kenma,” he said. 

“Anytime,” Kenma replied as Akaashi left the room. 

Akaashi went back to his desk and plopped into his chair, slouching down in it and spinning around. Oikawa watched him from his desk, then balled up a piece of paper and tossed it across the aisle. It bounced off Akaashi’s head as he spun, and he twisted the chair around to face Oikawa and scowl at him. 

Oikawa chuckled. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

“Don’t call me that,” Akaashi replied, huffing. 

“You’re in rare pouty form today.” Oikawa slid his chair around his desk and used his feet to drag himself across the carpeted floor and come to a rest next to Akaashi. He poked the other’s cheek and grinned. “You only get like that when things aren’t going your way.”

“Nothing is going my way, lately,” Akaashi said. He held up his phone. “Kenma couldn’t track the number, so I have no idea who called me.”

“So are you going to go?”

“I’m waiting to hear what Daichi thinks I should do. I’m nervous, but if it’s at the other station, surely it can’t be a setup, right?”

Oikawa shrugged. “I don’t know, ‘Kaashi. If you want my opinion, I only trust the people on this team anymore. After what happened, I don’t think it’s justified to assume just because a person is an officer, they’re a good guy.”

Akaashi frowned. “But he was part of our team.”

“True,” Oikawa replied. “But we were the ones who caught him. Well, you did, really. But we all testified against him. I trust Iwa-chan, and I trust you. Daichi is too torn up about all of this to be the one carrying it on, plus I’m sure he couldn’t kill a fly if it landed in his food.”

“What about Kuroo and Kenma?”

“Kuroo is a sly son of a bitch, but he’s no killer. And Kenma gets squeamish just talking about a dead body.”

“And Bokuto?”

“Bokuto it harmless,” Oikawa replied, eyeing Akaashi suspiciously. “But you would know more about that than I would, now wouldn’t you?”

Bokuto was sitting at his own desk, pretending to not overhear his team members’ conversation, but he glanced over at the mention of his name. 

Akaashi shrugged and turned away from Oikawa. Iwaizumi entered the room, Daichi following closely behind. 

“Yo, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said. “Shinjuku has the files we need for our case. We need to go pick them up today.”

“You’re going to Shinjuku?” Akaashi asked. 

“I was actually going to talk to you about that,” Daichi said. He gestured to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “These two are already going there, and I’m nervous about you going since Kenma couldn’t trace the call. I think it’s too risky, especially after the box at your apartment incident. I asked Iwaizumi to bring back whatever is there for you, and we can all look at it here.”

Iwaizumi smiled at Akaashi. “I can do your dirty work. Just buy me some coffee sometime.”

Akaashi opened his mouth to protest – he didn’t like this idea. What if it was a trap? – but Iwaizumi and Oikawa were already walking out the door. Daichi climbed the steps to his office, shutting the door behind him. Akaashi watched the door for a few minutes, waiting to see if Daichi would exit anytime soon. When it appeared that he was in his office to stay until Iwaizumi and Oikawa returned, Akaashi jumped out of his chair and grabbed his keys.

He stopped at Bokuto’s desk as he passed it, and Bokuto looked up at him. 

“Are you coming?” Akaashi asked. 

Bokuto blinked. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“I’m going to Shinjuku.”

“But Daichi just said Iwaizumi and Oikawa are going there.”

“And?”

Bokuto stared at Akaashi for a moment, completely unsure about what Akaashi was suggesting. Finally, he just glanced at Daichi’s door, saw it was closed, then stood, following Akaashi out the station doors. 

They were sitting across the street from Shinjuku Station in Akaashi’s car. They had a clear line of sight to Iwaizumi’s car. The other two detectives had arrived shortly before they did, but Akaashi and Bokuto had gotten there in time to watch them enter. Bokuto shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had to slide the seat back as far as possible so his knees weren’t rammed into the glovebox, and as soon as they had parked, he had thrown the seatbelt off him. He felt way too cramped. 

“So, why are we tailing our own team?” Bokuto asked. 

“I don’t trust this whole thing. I’m worried it’s a trap,” Akaashi replied.

“Why does that warrant spying on Iwaizumi and Oikawa?”

“It’s more fun this way.” Akaashi grinned, and Bokuto couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Wow, I didn’t think you had fun anymore, Akaashi.”

“Please, don’t act like you know anything about me,” Akaashi said, rolling his eyes. 

Bokuto glared at him. “I used to.”

“Well, it’s been a long time since then.”

He was over this. He was over sitting in this car, he was over walking on eggshells around Akaashi, he was over pretending like their coworkers couldn’t feel the tension between them. 

Bokuto twisted in his seat to face Akaashi, and he slammed his hand on the center console. “What is your problem?”

Akaashi glared at him briefly before turning back to watch the station. “Do not yell at me, Bokuto-san. I will make you walk back to our station.”

“Then talk to me! Why have you been acting like I ran your dog over with a car and then didn’t apologize?”

“I’m not talking about this right now. We’re working.”

“Then when will you talk about it?”

Akaashi shrugged. 

Bokuto threw his hands up in frustration, and he smacked them off the roof of the car. He cursed under his breath, yanking his hands back down and cradling them in his lap. Then he glared back at Akaashi. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being this way! I think you were nicer to Konoha than you’ve been to me!”

Akaashi snapped his head in Bokuto’s direction, and Bokuto shrank back against the window at the absolutely _venomous_ glare Akaashi was giving him. 

“Don’t even go there,” Akaashi whispered, and that was more unsettling than if he had yelled it. 

“Then talk to me,” Bokuto replied. “What did I ever do to you Akaashi? Why are you treating me like this?”

Akaashi pressed his lips together, then turned to stare back out the windshield. It was quiet between them for a moment, and Bokuto thought he wasn’t going to answer him. Then Akaashi spoke. 

“Maybe it has something to do with how you graduated from high school and then vanished, Bokuto-san.” His voice was quiet, like a simmering pot that could boil over, but it was contained at the moment as long as one watched what they did. 

“Akaashi, I joined the military. You knew that.”

A look almost like pain passed over Akaashi’s face, but Bokuto couldn’t be sure because he could only see his profile.

“Yes, I’m aware. But does that mean you had to never speak to me again?”

Bokuto’s shoulders fell from where they had been scrunched up to his ears in defense. He breathed out a quiet _Oh_.

“Yeah, oh,” Akaashi replied. He sighed. “I mean, I expected it when you went away for training. And I even texted you just so you knew I missed you, not expecting a reply right away. But then I never got a reply, even after a whole year.”

Bokuto remembered getting those texts from Akaashi. He had meant to reply, but he had gotten distracted, then so busy, and by the time he remembered, so much time had passed. It had felt foolish to reply. 

“I didn’t realize that it would bother you so much,” Bokuto said quietly. 

Akaashi barked out a single, bitter laugh. “You didn’t think it would bother me? How dense are you?”

“Rude.”

“I’m serious!” 

Akaashi turned to face Bokuto, but he didn’t look angry this time. He looked sad and desperate. He suddenly looked much younger, and Bokuto was reminded of teenage Akaashi. He was reminded of all the times he had found Akaashi hiding on the school’s roof during lunch, distancing himself from his own class because he felt like he didn’t fit in. He was reminded of the sad look Akaashi had given him the first time Bokuto asked to stay with him on the roof, like he wanted Bokuto to stay but knew he would get tired of him. 

“Akaashi, I –” Bokuto began, but Akaashi interrupted him. 

“If you seriously thought that I wouldn’t be bothered by you just disappearing, you’re an idiot! I gave so much to you, Bokuto. Every first I could have then. And I missed you with every inch of me. I even went to your house at Christmas to see if you were home! I looked like a fool.” Akaashi was gripping the steering wheel angrily, his knuckles turning white.

He wanted so badly to smack Bokuto across the face, to scream at him and make him understand how much he had been hurting the past eight years. How often Akaashi had sought out someone to fill the void that Bokuto had left. And he wanted to scream and make him understand that if he hadn’t left, maybe Akaashi could have avoided the biggest heartbreak he had ever experienced. 

But Bokuto’s eyes were shining like gold in the sunlight, and Akaashi was reminded of just how gentle the boy he knew was. And, if he had to guess, the man Bokuto was now was just as gentle. And he was probably already beating himself up for leaving, so Akaashi screaming wasn’t going to make anything better. 

Akaashi sighed, released his grip on the steering wheel, and sank into his seat. He couldn't stay mad at Bokuto, no matter how hard he tried. He was still hurt, and he planned on making Bokuto prove he wasn't ever going to pull something like that again, but he couldn't stay mad. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude to you in the beginning. I was surprised to see you, and I was angry that the first time I was seeing you after so long was in front of so many people. And in the midst of –” Akaashi waved his hands about, “—all this. And I thought I was leaving for France soon, which I still am, and it just seemed like I would never get closure.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I understand now,” Bokuto replied. His voice was soft. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I guess I just… I don’t even know. I felt like maybe everything we had was just for that time. I mean, you were always so much smarter than me. I knew you were going to college, and when I realized that we hadn’t spoken in so long, I thought you probably wouldn’t even want to hear from me. Honestly, I thought you had probably forgotten about me.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “How could I forget about you? I mean, I would have waited for you. I told you that.”

Bokuto looked at his lap sheepishly. “I forgot you said that.”

Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course. You probably weren’t even listening to me.” He turned to look at Bokuto again, and this time he didn’t feel any anger. 

Bokuto was staring back at him, and he was giving Akaashi that stupid optimistic look. “Do you think we could…maybe try again? I mean, just as friends. I know things with Konoha were bad. But I did miss you, and I was so glad to see you again. I’m sorry I messed everything up.”

Akaashi smiled sadly. “Konoha is a thing of the past, obviously. But I missed you, too. And I think we could –”

Akaashi’s words stopped abruptly as he caught a glint in the side view mirror, but it wasn’t the glint of the sun or a car passing by. It came from above and moved about, almost like a bird. Akaashi whipped his head around to peer out the back passenger window. Bokuto frowned and turned, following his gaze. 

“Akaashi, what do you see?”

Akaashi followed the glare, and his eyes landed on something peeking over the top of the building they were parked next to. Whatever it was, it was pointed directly at the station across the street. Akaashi followed its angle and saw Iwaizumi and Oikawa coming out of the building. Iwaizumi was carrying a sealed case file, smiling at Oikawa as he told Iwaizumi some story with grand gestures of his hands. 

Realization and dread fell upon both Akaashi and Bokuto at the same time. Akaashi was faster than Bokuto, leaping from the car and beginning to sprint across the street. 

“Get down!” he screamed, waving his hands at his friends. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa stopped in their tracks, staring at Akaashi with confusion. 

“Get down!” he screamed again, but it was swallowed up by the loud gunshot that rang out, its sound bouncing between the walls of the surrounding buildings. 

Akaashi watched in frozen horror as Iwaizumi’s face contorted in pain, and he collapsed onto the pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you, Iwa-chan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to redeem myself for Iwa. And then tear you all back down again. Hugs.

Shinjuku Station devolved into chaos instantaneously. Officers from inside the station streamed out, guns drawn, yelling and trying to get as much information as possible. Bokuto tried to see if the shooter was still visible, but whoever it was had moved away too quickly. He darted around the building to view the fire escape, but no one was climbing down it, meaning they were either still on the roof or exiting through the building. 

Bokuto tried to enter the building, but he found the doors locked. As he was making the decision to kick the door in, Oikawa appeared at his side, looking absolutely devastated but also furious. He had his gun drawn, and he nodded at Bokuto before following him into the building. 

Akaashi paid no mind to the officers around him. He dropped to his knees next to Iwaizumi, who was writhing in pain on the ground. Akaashi ripped his friend’s shirt open, eyes landing on the wound in his shoulder that was oozing blood. 

He took a moment to send a thank you prayer, knowing that a shoulder wound was barely fatal, as long as it went right through and not sideways into any vital organs. Akaashi ripped at the fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt, wadding it into a layered pad.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, then pressed the balled up fabric to the wound. 

Iwaizumi snarled and screamed, but then clenched his teeth together and rested his head on the ground. A sheen of sweat covered his face, and his breathing was labored from the pain, but otherwise he was handling the wound well.

“I need to see if there’s an exit wound,” Akaashi said. 

Iwaizumi nodded weakly, then tensed as Akaashi prepared to lift him slightly to look at his back. Akaashi lifted, and Iwaizumi cried out, but there was a clearly visible exit wound on the back of Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Akaashi lowered him back onto the pavement gently and reapplied pressure to his shoulder. 

“You’ve got a nice exit wound back there,” Akaashi told Iwaizumi, trying his best to ease some of his friend’s pain and worry. “It looks clean.”

“Where’s Oikawa?” Iwaizumi choked out. He opened his eyes and they darted around, frantically searching for his partner’s face. 

“He went after the shooter with Bokuto,” Akaashi replied. He flipped the shirt fabric around to the side that wasn’t soaked in blood and pressed it down. Then he grabbed more of Iwaizumi’s shirt and wadded it, sliding it underneath Iwaizumi to apply pressure to the exit wound. 

“He’s okay?” Iwaizumi asked. 

“He’s fine. And you’ll be fine, too. The ambulance will be here soon.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa dropped to the pavement on the other side of Iwaizumi, and the wounded man reached for his partner’s hand. Oikawa took it and squeezed, offering a weak smile of comfort. 

The pain was almost unbearable; Iwaizumi felt like his entire left side was on fire, and Akaashi’s hands pressing down wasn’t helping. But he knew it was necessary, so he bit back the curses he wanted to sling at the other man and gripped Oikawa’s hand like it was his lifeline. 

“Did you find the shooter?” Akaashi asked, looking over his shoulder at Bokuto, who only shook his head in response. Akaashi cursed under his breath.

The sweet sound of sirens filled the air, and Akaashi stepped away from Iwaizumi as paramedics surrounded him. He, Bokuto, and Oikawa watched as they transferred Iwaizumi to the back of the ambulance, and Oikawa was visibly trembling.

“You should go with him,” Akaashi said, reaching out to touch Oikawa’s arm. He stopped when he saw the blood covering his hands. 

Oikawa saw the blood too, and he stared at Akaashi’s hands with wide eyes before snapping back into the moment. He took a shaky breath and nodded. 

“I’ll take his car to the hospital,” he said.

“Are you sure you can drive?” Bokuto asked. 

Oikawa took another deep breath. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. You’ll tell Daichi what happened?”

“Of course,” Akaashi said, and he nudged Oikawa toward the car with his shoulder. “Go.”

Oikawa left, and Bokuto dragged Akaashi into Shinjuku Station. Officers moved out of their way, one stepping forward to guide them to the bathroom. Bokuto thrust Akaashi’s hands under the faucet and turned the water on, gently scrubbing the blood off his hands. 

Akaashi watched the water run over his hands as it slowly turned from red to pink, and finally clear. Bokuto’s calloused fingers massaged Akaashi’s palms, helping the soap and water remove the blood of his friend from the crevices in his hands. 

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asked quietly. 

Akaashi nodded. “It wasn’t that bad. It was a clean shot and had an exit wound.”

“You saved his life.”

“He got shot because of me. That was meant for me.”

“If you had come, you would be dead because there wouldn’t have been anyone across the street to see it coming.” Bokuto turned the water off and grabbed paper towels, wrapping them around Akaashi’s hands to dry them.

Akaashi watched Bokuto’s hands work over his, slowly processing what he was saying. He didn’t really agree, but he didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Are you in shock?” Bokuto asked, leaning his face close to Akaashi’s.

Akaashi looked up from their hands to find Bokuto almost nose to nose with him. He stared at him, drinking in his honey colored eyes, then blinking away. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. He pulled his hands away and pulled out his phone. He already had three missed calls and fourteen texts from Daichi. He opened his phone and immediately dialed Daichi, walking out of the bathroom.

Akaashi and Bokuto heard Iwaizumi before they saw him. 

“I am _fine_. Get me out of this damn hospital bed! I’m going back to that station!”

There was a shuffle and the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, then they heard Iwaizumi again. 

“Get off me! I mean it, I will punt your scrawny ass across this room!”

“I hope that’s not a nurse he’s talking to like that,” Bokuto muttered to Akaashi as they rounded the corner to the hospital room.

Iwaizumi was trying to swat Oikawa off him with his good arm, his left one tucked snugly against his chest in a sling. He still had no shirt on, and his left shoulder was wrapped in layers of crisp, sterile gauze. There was a crimson spot gathering, blaringly obvious against the harsh white of the dressings; it seeped slowly through the fabric and was growing larger by the second. 

Oikawa was practically laying across Iwaizumi, using his advantage of two mobile arms to ward off Iwaizumi’s swats and pin him down. His face was paler than Iwaizumi’s, eyes puffy and red, but he wasn’t giving much of an expression as he struggled with Iwaizumi. He simply looked concentrated. 

A nurse was standing off to the side, shaking her head and frowning. When she saw Akaashi and Bokuto, she looked relieved. 

“Are you friends with these two?” she asked, clearly exasperated. 

They nodded.

“Then can you _please_ tell them to knock this off? His wound is starting to reopen.”

“Akaashi, tell these people, especially _this one,_ that a gunshot wound to the shoulder is nothing and I can leave!” Iwaizumi exclaimed, gesturing aggressively to Oikawa, who was still draped across his lap. 

Akaashi gave the nurse an apologetic smile and approached the bed. He gently coaxed Oikawa off his partner, guiding him to sit in the chair next to the bed. 

“Oikawa take a breather,” he said. He turned to Iwaizumi. “And you. Calm down. Your blood pressure is through the roof. Even if you were okay enough to leave, which you aren’t, they’re not going to let you when you’ve got yourself all worked up like this.”

Akaashi pointed at the monitor next to the bed, which displayed all of Iwaizumi’s vitals. Iwaizumi followed his finger, frowning when he saw that Akaashi was right. The nurse breathed a sigh of relief and padded over to Iwaizumi’s side, slowly undoing the bandages around his shoulder to peer at the wound. 

“I’ll need to rewrap this. _Stay put._ ” She gave Iwaizumi a stern look, at which he shrank away, and walked out of the room. She mouthed a _Thank you_ to Akaashi on her way out. 

Bokuto came to stand next to Oikawa, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Oikawa still looked like he could burst into tears at any moment. He leaned into Bokuto’s touch. 

As Bokuto was about to ask Iwaizumi how he was feeling, Daichi burst into the room. He looked frantic and he was breathing heavily. These _children_ were going to be the death of him. If he didn’t get killed on the job, he was going to die of a heart attack from their behaviors. 

“What in the actual _hell_ is happening in this city? Akaashi, Bokuto, why were you even at Shinjuku? I told you to stay at our station,” he barked.

“You didn’t actually tell us to stay anywhere,” Akaashi replied, his face expertly blank. 

“Akaashi, I swear, I will end your career with one phone call if you give me those smartass remarks of yours,” Daichi said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Bokuto hid a smile behind his hand and coughed to cover a laugh. 

“I’ve been at Shinjuku with Kuroo trying to get any forensic evidence we could. Did anyone see anything? Do we have any idea who might have done this?” Daichi was trying desperately to keep his voice under control. 

“I think whoever it was planned on me being there,” Akaashi said. All eyes turned to him. “That phone call told me when to be at Shinjuku. Iwaizumi, was there anything waiting there for me?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “No, the officers didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“So, that shot was meant for you,” Bokuto said. He wanted to throw up, and Daichi looked like he felt the same. 

“It was a trap, then.” Akaashi sighed, then looked at Oikawa. “We should have listened to you.”

Oikawa huffed. “You should all try that once in a while. Especially _you_.” He narrowed his eyes at Iwaizumi. 

The nurse reentered the room and asked for some space to redress Iwaizumi’s bandages. Oikawa stayed with him, and Daichi stayed only to ask how long they thought Iwaizumi would be in the hospital. Then he joined Akaashi and Bokuto in the hallway. 

At their expectant stares, Daichi said: “She says Iwaizumi will be fine. As long as he rests and doesn’t keep reopening his wounds, he should be able to leave in a day or two. They just want to monitor for infection. Oikawa is going to stay with him and get ahold of his family.”

“I want to go back to the station,” Akaashi said. 

“Why? So they can finish you off?” Bokuto asked, flailing his arms in the air. 

Akaashi glared at him. “Whoever called me last night wanted me there. So far, there has been a package left at my apartment, a body dumped at the gravesite of the girl I couldn’t save, a weird call made to my phone, and now an attempt to lure me into a trap so someone could murder me. I don’t want to sound conceited, but I think someone is out to get me.” He ticked off each incident on his fingers as he listed them.

“And going back to Shinjuku would help you find out who is doing this…how exactly?” Daichi asked. 

“Because Konoha worked at Shinjuku Station before he transferred to our team.”

Daichi felt like he could combust. “And you weren’t planning on telling me this?” He was aware that he was yelling, but he didn’t really care. 

Akaashi raised his hands defensively. “I thought you knew!”

Daichi narrowed his eyes at Akaashi, then sighed. “What are you planning on doing there?”

“Surely someone there knew Konoha. He only worked with our team for a little over a year. Maybe someone there knows things about him that could help us locate these disciples.”

“Fine. Go. But wear your stupid bulletproof vests. And I swear if anything happens to either of you, pray that it kills you because if it doesn’t, I’ll kill you myself.” Daichi stalked off down the hallway. 

“Someone is a little stressed,” Bokuto whispered. “Do you think he would actually kill us?”

Akaashi chuckled. “After the day he’s had? Absolutely.”

______________________

Their return trip to Shinjuku proved fruitless. A few of the officers remembered Konoha, but none of them had worked with him personally. The partner he’d had at Shinjuku had transferred out to a completely different city after Konoha had been convicted, and while Akaashi was able to obtain his contact information, they couldn’t question him right away.

The captain at Shinjuku could only offer a little more insight. He told Akaashi and Bokuto that Konoha didn’t seem to have many close friends or family, and he was a private person while he worked there. Akaashi could confirm this; Konoha had never once mentioned friends or family, and other than Akaashi, he had kept to himself. 

They were about to leave the station when a pair of detectives stopped them. 

“Hey, you two know the guy who was shot today, right?” The one who asked, a slender man with unruly brown hair with a dark undercut, had leapt up from his desk chair. The other, a taller man with tousled black hair, was turned around slightly in his, looking over his shoulder.

Akaashi nodded, and he and Bokuto walked over to their desks. 

“Yeah, he’s on our team,” Akaashi replied. “Why?”

“How is he doing?” the one still sitting asked. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Bokuto said. “The bullet hit his shoulder.”

The man with the undercut dropped his mouth open in awe. “Holy crap! How lucky! I can’t believe that happened right in front of the station, right Sarukui?”

The dark haired man, Sarukui, nodded. “We saw all the commotion when we returned to the station after our patrol. Do you know who shot him?”

Akaashi shook his head. “No, we have no idea. How long have you two been detectives?”

“I’ve been here for three years, but I was just promoted to a detective last year,” Sarukui replied. He pointed at the other man. “Komi has been a detective for two years.”

“Did either of you know a man named Konoha Akinori?” Akaashi asked.

Komi and Sarukui pondered for a moment. 

“I knew him,” Komi replied. “But he was on another team when he was here.”

“I never met him, but I’ve heard of him,” Sarukui said. “He was the one who got caught for those really brutal murders a few months back, right?”

“Yeah. Crazy to think I worked right next to a murderer and never even knew it,” Komi breathed. He turned to Akaashi. “The murders started again, though, didn’t they? And an officer from your station was killed?”

Akaashi and Bokuto nodded. 

“We were just wondering if you had known Konoha, and if there was anything you could tell us about him. We’re investigating the new murders,” Bokuto said. 

Sarukui’s eyes widened. “Oh! You are? Then we have something for you!” He leapt out of his chair and scurried over to a file cabinet. He collected a few files and brought them back, handing them over to Bokuto. 

“Those are some cold case files that got flagged in the system because they had similar MOs to the new murders,” Komi explained. “Your tech analyst had requested them this afternoon, and we were supposed to seal them up and send them over. But then all that commotion happened, so we forgot.”

Akaashi took the top file and flipped it open, glancing over the details. They certainly had some similarities, specifically the stab wounds. It looked like there were less than seven, though, and there was no evidence the bodies had been posed. 

_Maybe these were their very first victims before Konoha started teaching them,_ Akaashi thought. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, giving the other detectives a small smile. “I’m Detective Akaashi, by the way. And this is Detective Bokuto.”

Komi and Sarukui smiled back. 

“If we can do anything else to help, let us know. It’s messed up that this person is targeting officers now. We hope your friend gets better soon,” Sarukui said. Komi nodded in agreement. 

Akaashi and Bokuto thanked them again, then left the station. 

The conversation with Konoha’s old partner was another dead end. After finishing his phone call with him, Akaashi had groaned and plunked his head against his desk. Two days had passed since Iwaizumi had been shot. Despite combing through the case files Komi and Sarukui had given them, calling every person they could find who had even so much as talked to Konoha once, and Kuroo reexamining all his forensic evidence, they had nothing. 

After a few minutes of staring intently at the surface of his desk, Akaashi felt a presence next to him. He glanced up to see Bokuto standing there, watching him with a raised eyebrow. 

“The old partner didn’t give you anything good?” he guessed. 

Akaashi grumbled and turned his face back against his desk. Bokuto nudged his shoulder to make him sit up, setting a cup of coffee in front of him. Akaashi took it and sipped it gratefully. 

Bokuto grabbed Iwaizumi’s desk chair and wheeled it over, plopping down next to Akaashi. 

“I looked over the cold case files again, but I really don’t think they’re the same killer,” he said. 

“No, I don’t think so either. The similarities stop at the stabbing and the victims’ ages. Kuroo said the autopsy reports of those bodies suggest the killer wasn’t even using a knife, maybe something like an ice pick instead,” Akaashi replied. He tipped his head back and tilted it, trying to crack his neck. Nothing happened, and he grimaced. 

“Hey, do you think these killers could be in the Agency like Konoha was?” Bokuto asked. 

Akaashi shrugged. It was certainly a possibility, but they had no solid evidence to suggest that. Then again, he’d had no solid evidence to suggest the original killer was an NPA officer, either. 

“It just seems like these people know how to work the system,” Bokuto continued. “I mean, how do you post up outside of an Agency station with a gun and no one notices unless you know how the shifts work? And they were gone before Oikawa and I even made it in the building. Plus, like you said, the victims haven’t been random. They’ve all been connected to the Agency. Don’t you think you’d be more inclined to trust someone that’s also a part of the NPA before anyone…”

Akaashi was staring at Bokuto with wide eyes as he spoke. Bokuto didn’t notice at first, but when he did, his words trailed off. 

He blinked at Akaashi. “What?”

“Bokuto, you’re a genius,” Akaashi breathed. 

“I’m grateful we’re on speaking terms again, but I wasn’t expecting such a drastic one-eighty in your attitude toward me, Akaashi.”

“Oh hush.” Akaashi tapped his fingers against the lid of his coffee cup. “Seriously. I never saw that, but you’re totally right. The victims would trust another officer or employee of the Agency. What reason would they have not to? And that would explain how they were able to kill Tanaka even though he would have been trained to defend himself.”

He hummed worriedly and took a tentative sip of his coffee. Raising his eyes to Daichi’s closed office door, Akaashi sighed. 

“Daichi is not going to like it when we tell him this,” he mumbled.

“Make Kenma do it.”

“Bokuto, that’s cruel. And just for that, you go tell him by yourself. I’m going to be late for a meeting.” Akaashi rose from his desk as Bokuto sputtered at his words. He grabbed his keys and raised his coffee cup at Bokuto. “Thanks for the coffee. Good luck.”

Akaashi winked then left the station, Bokuto still sputtering behind him.

______________________

It was an understatement to say that Akaashi’s arms felt about as useful as cooked noodles. Kageyama and Hinata had insisted on practicing “just one more hit” about sixty times before Akaashi finally put a stop to it. Hinata’s boundless energy knew no limits; he could jump and spike and jump and spike until the sun came up, and then he would probably _still_ ask for “just one more.”

Kageyama was no better, constantly practicing his setting skills until Akaashi was sure the boy couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. Akaashi had been sponsoring the teenagers for almost three years, and he had been the one to suggest they make practicing volleyball their usual activity. Both boys had expressed an enthusiastic interest in it, even more so when they found out Akaashi had played volleyball in high school. 

Akaashi had been excited for the opportunity to keep up his volleyball skills, but he hadn’t realized he was signing on to teach two boys with energy levels that rivaled Bokuto’s. 

He dragged himself out of his car, plodding around to the front of his apartment building. The stress of work was weighing on him, and he had the added stress of his lease ending soon. Akaashi had been positive that the case would be solved by the time he was planning to make the move to France. He hadn’t bothered discussing an extension of his lease, but now the deadline was looming closer while he and Bokuto still had no viable suspects. 

_Maybe Daichi will let me sleep at the station if he knows I have nowhere else to go,_ he thought. 

He stomped up the few steps to the entrance and paused to check his mailbox. It was dark, and he was tired, so finding the key to his mailbox was proving much more difficult than usual. He fumbled with his keys, finally finding the right one, and lifted it to the box to unlock it.

It took his brain a moment to catch up with his face being slammed into the metal boxes. He stumbled backwards, immediately dropping his keys and pressing his hands to his face. Warm liquid was pouring out of his nose, and in the dim light he saw his hands smeared with blood.

When his brain finally caught up enough to scream at him in alarm, a hand was in his hair, balling up painfully and sending him face first into the mailboxes again. Akaashi couldn’t keep his balance this time, and he fell to the concrete landing right outside the entrance to his building, skidding the heels of his hands painfully on the rough surface.

His instincts told him to fight, but he also could barely see after having his face rammed into the wall twice. Bright pockets of light exploded in his vision, and he blindly crawled forward to escape his assailant. 

Forward wasn’t quite where he thought it was though, and he found himself bumping into the stone wall that encased the landing. He desperately wiped at his eyes, willing his vision to right so he could defend himself, and a hand grabbed his hair again. 

He fell backwards and twisted his hips to swing his legs around. One foot found home on the other person’s knee, and whoever was attacking him stumbled with a harsh grunt. Their grip loosened on Akaashi’s hair, and he was able to reach up and twist the other’s wrist, causing them to let go.

Akaashi gripped his attacker’s wrist tightly and pulled, trying to create more unbalance. He felt them stumble again, but they stomped down directly on Akaashi’s stomach. He gasped for air and released his hold, managing to roll away. 

He rolled right onto the stone steps and bounced down them, coughing and gasping for breath the whole way. He was disoriented again when he landed on the sidewalk but managed to rise to his hands and knees. Before he could gain more balance, though, the assailant fisted their hand in his hair again and yanked his head back with all their might. 

Akaashi let out a cry, then reached both hands up to claw at the other’s arm and hand. He heard a click, then registered the cold sharpness of a blade against his neck. Akaashi jerked sideways as best he could, twisting his body to break the other’s grip. 

It only tightened, but Akaashi did manage to evade the blade at his throat. He twisted again, turning his body around to face the other, kicking at their feet and knees. Despite his limited vision, he caught his attacker’s arm moving quickly at his side, and Akaashi raised his right arm to deflect whatever blow was coming. His elbow knocked against the other’s forearm, but red hot pain blossomed on his upper arm. 

Akaashi threw his body backwards against the pavement, pulling his assailant down with him, and managed to knock the blade from the other’s hand. As he was fumbling to reach the weapon himself, he heard the screech of car tires and then someone yelling. 

The weight of his attacker disappeared, and Akaashi scrambled backwards. He saw two figures running down the street, both disappearing around the corner. He blinked a few times, trying to regain normal vision, and finally succeeded in blinking away most of the blood that had gotten smeared in his eyes from the struggle. 

Just as he was catching his breath and trying to think of the next best move, someone rounded the corner and was jogging in his direction. Akaashi felt panic rise in his throat, and he searched for the blade he’d knocked away. 

Before he could locate it, though, the person jogging skidded to their knees next to him and cupped his cheeks in broad, calloused hands.

“Akaashi, are you okay?” Bokuto asked frantically, looking over Akaashi for any other wounds besides his profusely bleeding nose. He found a bloody gash on Akaashi’s right arm. 

Akaashi stared at Bokuto with wide eyes, giving no response. Bokuto dropped his hands from Akaashi’s face and gripped his injured arm gently, pulling the blood soaked fabric away from the wound to look at it. 

“You’re going to need stitches. We need to go to the hospital,” he said. Bokuto wasn’t surprised Akaashi wasn’t responding to him; he had seen people react like this when he was in the military; it usually came after an unexpected attack. Akaashi was clearly in shock. 

“Bokuto?” Akaashi breathed, finally registering who was touching him. “What… Why are you here?”

“We need to go to the hospital.” Bokuto hoisted Akaashi to his feet, steadying him as Akaashi stumbled a bit. 

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“Well, you’re bleeding all over the place and you need stitches.”

“Just call Kuroo.”

“Kuroo is not a doctor.”

“I need to call Daichi.”

Bokuto guided Akaashi to his car and sat him in the passenger seat, then pulled the back door open to grab a blanket he had back there. He ripped a strip from it and wrapped it around Akaashi’s bleeding arm, then tucked the rest of it into Akaashi’s hand and made him press it to his bleeding face. 

“I will call Daichi,” he told Akaashi. 

“Don’t leave the knife here,” Akaashi mumbled, pointing to where he had been sitting on the sidewalk. 

Bokuto nodded and ripped some more of the blanket, using it to pick up the blade and wrap it so he didn’t compromise any information it might offer to Kuroo once he got it to him. Then he rounded the front of his car and got in. 

Akaashi just stared out the windshield, blinking slowly, his hand still pressing the blanket to his nose as Bokuto drove him to the hospital.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter where no one gets hurt and it's actually kind of fluffy. You guys deserve it.
> 
> Not that anyone has ever not been, but please be patient with me as I write the next chapter. I haven't started it yet, which is unlike me, but I'm dealing with some personal things right now and not feeling the greatest. Writing helps me cope, so I imagine I'll be working on the chapters in the next few days, but I also need to do some self care. 
> 
> I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe. Thank you so much for reading, and as always, thank you for the love you all give me. Your comments are always so sweet, and I love reading them and interacting with you.

At the hospital, Bokuto helped Akaashi into the waiting room and made him sit in a chair. Akaashi was slowly coming back to his wits, and the bleeding from his nose had begun to clot, but he was still disoriented. Bokuto approached the window where a nurse sat. He explained the situation, and the nurse got Akaashi into an examine room immediately. 

As the doctor examined Akaashi’s wounds and got a nurse to begin cleaning and stitching up the cut on his arm, Bokuto called Daichi. The captain told Bokuto he would be there within the hour to take Akaashi’s statement, and he asked Bokuto to make sure Akaashi didn’t take any pain medicine until after Daichi had spoken to him.

Bokuto leaned against the wall and watched as Akaashi barely flinched when the nurse stitched his wound. He did wince as they cleaned the blood off his face and put antibiotic cream on the split skin around his cheeks and lips. A deep, rapidly blackening bruise was already starting to bloom across the bridge of his broken nose and under his eyes when Daichi arrived. 

“You look like hell,” he said when he entered the room. 

Akaashi chuckled, then winced at the movement of his face. Daichi gave him a sympathetic look. 

“Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t even really know. I was checking my mail, and then I was being manhandled against the concrete. I didn’t see them, but I’m almost positive it was a man,” Akaashi replied. He struggled to recall the events, but it had all happened so quickly, and he was suffering from a pretty nasty concussion. He really just wanted pain medication and to go to bed. 

“Whoever it was, they had their hood up so I couldn’t see their face,” Bokuto told Daichi. “They were fast, too.”

“Could you guess their height?” Daichi asked, jotting down the information. 

Bokuto shrugged. “Average. No taller than Akaashi, I would guess, but I can’t be positive.”

Daichi sighed and snapped his notepad shut. “This case is just a whole lot of we can’t be sure.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Bokuto said, deflating a bit. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Daichi replied. He smiled genuinely at Bokuto. “You’re doing your best with what we’ve got. I couldn’t ask for better.”

Bokuto smiled shyly, ducking his head. Akaashi gave him a small smile as well. 

“Akaashi, I want you to take a few days to rest,” Daichi said. He placed a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder. “I know you’ll want to jump right back in, and if you really can’t stay away from the station, that’s fine. But I want you to take a break from the field, okay?”

Akaashi nodded. Daichi bid them both farewell and left the hospital. Once he was gone, Akaashi swung his legs up onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows. 

“Bokuto-san, can you hand me the ice pack the nurse left?” he asked softly. 

Bokuto scurried over and pressed the pack into Akaashi’s hand. The other placed it gently on his swollen face and sighed, closing his eyes. 

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Bokuto asked. 

“Yes.”

“I’ll call the nurse so they can get you some medicine.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

After the nurse brought medicine and observed Akaashi for a few hours, they waited in comfortable silence while the doctor prepared Akaashi’s discharge papers. Bokuto thought Akaashi was asleep when the other lifted his head very suddenly. 

“Bokuto-san, why were you at my apartment?”

Bokuto stiffened. “Um… Well, I was...uh...” He coughed, and Akaashi raised an eyebrow suspiciously at him. “I was driving by to check on you.”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes. “You were what?”

“I was just…checking on you. I have been for the last couple weeks, just a couple times a week.”

Realization washed over Akaashi. “So your car is the one I’ve seen outside? You’ve been stalking me?”

Bokuto shook his head vehemently. “I wasn’t stalking you, I swear! I drive through your neighborhood on my way home from the gym a couple times a week. I saw you one night and realized you lived there.”

“So you decided after that to sit outside and watch me? Bokuto-san, that’s creepy.”

“No! I got worried because of what you said about someone being out to get you. I thought the same thing after that package showed up at your apartment. I didn’t want to suggest a protective watch because I thought you might get mad. But when I saw where you lived, I thought I could just drive by on my way home a couple nights and make sure you were okay. That’s what I was doing tonight, and I saw that person attacking you.”

Bokuto was tugging on his hair nervously, causing black and white strands to fall against his forehead. Akaashi wanted to be creeped out, but in a weird way what Bokuto had been doing was sweet. He huffed a laugh and shook his head. 

“Bokuto-san, how are you so sincere?” 

Bokuto’s forehead crinkled in confusion. 

Akaashi just smiled softly. “It’s fine. Just, next time, text me or something. I thought you were a murderer trying to learn my schedule so you could kill me.”

“You’re paranoid, Akaashi.”

“I think I have a right to be after what happened tonight.”

“Touché.”

Akaashi was feeling pleasantly pain free and drowsy thanks to the powerful pain medication coursing through his veins. He lounged in the passenger seat of Bokuto’s car, watching the streetlights blip by as Bokuto drove. 

They turned down the street Akaashi lived on, slowing to a stop in front of the building. Akaashi stared at the entryway apprehensively. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi pulled out his phone but found that it was dead. He frowned at the black screen. “Bokuto-san, can I borrow your phone to call my sister? I think I’ll ask if I can stay with her for a couple days.”

Bokuto nodded and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and handed it to Akaashi. “You can always stay with me, if you want,” he told him. 

“I couldn’t ask that, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi stared at the screen, realizing that he couldn’t quite remember his sister’s phone number. 

“I’m offering. Besides,” Bokuto reached over and plucked his phone out of Akaashi’s hands, “it’s nearly three in the morning. We’re already together. Give me your keys so I can go get some things from your apartment.”

Akaashi patted sluggishly at his pockets, then groaned. “I dropped my keys. I don’t know if they’re still on the steps.”

“Alright, I’ll go check.” Bokuto jumped out of his car, then paused when Akaashi exited the car as well. “What are you doing?”

Akaashi fiddled nervously with his fingers, not meeting Bokuto’s gaze. “I don’t want to stay in the car by myself.”

Bokuto’s heart melted. Akaashi had always been the kind of person to hide his feelings, but when he was scared or tired, they would show. He was both in this instance, and the way his hands were trembling and he was fiddling with his fingers (a habit Bokuto saw Akaashi hadn’t outgrown from his adolescence) betrayed just how shaken he was from the attack. 

Miraculously, Akaashi’s keys were right where he had dropped them. They entered Akaashi’s apartment together, and Bokuto waited by the door while Akaashi gathered some of his belongings. Boxes were stacked in every corner of the small living space, and Bokuto was met head on with the reality that Akaashi would be moving to a whole new country once this case was solved. 

He pushed the sadness rising in his chest aside when Akaashi wandered out of his bedroom with a bag slung over his shoulder. “Are you ready?” 

Akaashi was moving slowly, scanning the apartment to see if he had forgotten anything. When he couldn’t think of or see anything else, he nodded, and he and Bokuto left. 

Bokuto’s home was small, but it felt warm and welcoming. It reminded Akaashi of the home Bokuto had lived in when they were teenagers: full of life and tight-knit. Akaashi could imagine Bokuto’s little brother jumping over the back of the couch to tackle his older brother while they played video games or watched movies, or the sweet smell of cookies baking in the oven since Bokuto’s mother had always been making something. It made Akaashi feel relaxed and safe.

“I’m pretty sure I have a futon somewhere,” Bokuto said to Akaashi as he threw his keys on the counter. “Make yourself at home while I go look for it.”

“The couch is fine, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mumbled. He lowered himself onto the couch slowly. His body still ached despite the pain medication, and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

“No, really, I know I have a futon.” Bokuto rummaged around in a hallway closet. 

Akaashi glanced around the living room. “How do you afford a whole house, Bokuto-san?”

“The military pays well, and I didn’t spend any of the money I earned. So I just saved it all and bought this place.”

“Mm,” Akaashi replied; he was drifting off into that half sleeping, half waking state.

Bokuto finally found the futon, but when he brought it into the living room to unfold it for Akaashi, he found the other sound asleep on the couch. Akaashi looked peaceful despite the gruesome bruise that covered his face. Bokuto felt anger rise in his chest as he thought about Akaashi’s attacker. Not just for trying to kill him, either; how dare they mar Akaashi’s pretty face? That was essentially a cardinal sin. 

Bokuto grabbed the blanket he kept on the end of his bed and brought it to the living room to drape over Akaashi. Bokuto’s mother had made that blanket for him when he was a child, and it was Bokuto’s favorite. It was heavy from its layers, downy soft, and no matter how many times Bokuto washed it, it always smelled like home. 

Akaashi also loved that blanket. Bokuto could recall many times when Akaashi would come over after school and immediately snatch it up from Bokuto’s bed and wrap it around himself. Bokuto had wrestled it away from him more than once. He had always given it back though, when Akaashi would pout and huff dramatically, complaining about how he was freezing and how no other blanket would suffice.

As the blanket settled around him, Akaashi snuggled deeper into it in his sleep. Bokuto watched him for a moment, slightly afraid that Akaashi would never wake up from his slumber. He had a nasty concussion, and even though Bokuto knew that the doctors had kept Akaashi awake in the hospital for hours to make sure he would be okay, he was anxious. His brain frantically listed all the side effects of traumatic brain injuries – he had memorized the symptoms after seeing so many in the military – but he forced himself to push the thoughts aside and trust that Akaashi would wake in the morning. 

Bokuto placed Akaashi’s pain medication on the coffee table beside the couch with a glass of water; he would likely wake at some point from the pain. With one more glance at his sleeping partner, Bokuto took himself to bed as well.

______________________

Akaashi’s eyes fluttered open. He glanced around the living room, eyeing pictures of Bokuto’s family on a shelf across the room, and the events of the night came flooding back to him. His face ached, and he touched his cheek tenderly. The skin immediately screamed in pain, and he winced. He saw the bottle of pain medication on the table next to him, and he lifted himself onto his elbows to sit up and take them.

He froze, though, when he found a black, fuzzy face and dark, calculating eyes staring intently at him. 

A large, black and white furred dog was sitting next to the couch by Akaashi’s hip. Its pointed ears were angled directly at Akaashi, and it was sitting abnormally still. Akaashi felt almost as if he were sitting in the presence of someone royal with the way the dog held itself. He didn’t want to move too suddenly in case the dog thought he was an intruder.

Akaashi didn’t remember seeing a dog at all when he had entered Bokuto’s home the previous night. Not only had he not seen a dog, he hadn’t heard barking or growling either. Perhaps the dog was the intruder, and for some reason it had entered Bokuto’s home and taken its post next to Akaashi while he slept. 

The dog was still staring at him, but Akaashi’s arms, especially his injured one, were starting to ache and he really needed to take his pain medication to ease the throbbing in his face. He lifted himself into a sitting position slowly, then reached out and took the pill bottle and water, never looking away from the dog. 

The dog’s eyes followed Akaashi’s hands, but it didn’t move otherwise. Akaashi took his medication, then set the bottle and water back on the table. He stared at the dog for a minute longer, then reached out a tentative hand.

“Are you friendly?” he whispered as he reached. 

As his hand neared the dog’s face, it leapt up to its feet suddenly, causing Akaashi to jerk his hand back on instinct. But instead of biting him or barking, like Akaashi thought would happen, the dog started wagging its fluffy, curled tail and licking Akaashi’s hand. It took a few steps closer to Akaashi and nudged its face under his hand, forcing Akaashi to pet its head. 

Akaashi laughed, then, and reached out with his other hand to pet the dog. It ran its body against the couch, turning in the small space between it and the coffee table so Akaashi could run his hands down its body. Then it turned again and sat, licking Akaashi’s one hand as he pet it with his other.

“You’re so sweet,” Akaashi said softly. He patted his lap and the dog leapt up on the couch immediately. 

He hadn’t really thought the action through, and Akaashi was suddenly very aware of how large and heavy this dog was; it had to weigh at least ninety pounds. Akaashi was only accustomed to seeing small dogs around the city, the biggest being around twenty pounds. 

The dog in his lap shuffled around on the blanket, then plopped its large, heavy body down on Akaashi’s lap and leaned against his chest, earning a breathless _Oof_ from Akaashi. It lifted its head to lick at Akaashi’s chin, and its weight pinned Akaashi down so he couldn’t escape. 

Akaashi was glad that he didn’t have many injuries on his chin. 

Bokuto was roused from his slumber when he heard someone huff loudly in the living room. He wondered briefly if Akaashi had rolled off the couch, and he sat up to go investigate. He saw that his bedroom door was open, which puzzled him; he knew he had definitely closed it when he’d gone to bed.

He heard soft laughs from the living room, and it dawned on Bokuto that the sunken corner of his bed was empty, void of its usual occupant. 

“Crap,” he muttered, throwing the blankets off himself and darting into the living room. 

He found Akaashi pinned on the couch, laughing quietly as he was essentially bathed by the black and white beast laying across his lap and chest. Akaashi saw Bokuto, and he gave him a wide, bright smile. Even with the bruise settling deeper into the delicate skin of his face, Akaashi’s smile was blindingly beautiful. Bokuto couldn’t help but give a dreamy smile back. 

“Bokuto-san, did you know you have a dog?” Akaashi asked giddily. 

Bokuto laughed loudly. “I’m aware. I’m so sorry, I shut my door to keep him in my room, but he must have nosed it open this morning.”

He pointed down at his side and whistled. The dog stopped licking Akaashi’s face and turned his attention to his owner. 

“Mamoru, come,” Bokuto said, his voice even and short. The dog leapt from Akaashi’s lap and trotted over, taking its place next to Bokuto obediently. Bokuto gave Akaashi an apologetic look. “Sorry, he gets carried away sometimes.”

“That’s okay,” Akaashi replied, wiping at his slobber covered face gently with his sleeve. “He was just sitting here staring at me when I woke up. I thought he might try to eat me. What’s his name again?”

Bokuto patted his dog on the head. “Mamoru, but I usually just call him Ru. He’s trained to not bark, so instead he will just creepily sit next to you until you notice him. He probably just wanted you to pet him.”

Akaashi nodded. “Clearly. I reached out and he started licking me. How do you train a dog to not bark? And why?”

“I got him in the military. He was trained to never bark so people wouldn’t be able to detect him. He only listens to me, and he’ll attack anyone I tell him to.”

“He _only_ listens to you? No matter what?” 

Bokuto nodded.

“That’s terrifying,” Akaashi breathed.

Bokuto laughed. “I mean, it’s really only terrifying if you’re planning on coming in here and hurting me. He usually stays in the back of the house unless I call him, so an intruder wouldn’t know about him until he attacked. But he’s really just a teddy bear.” Bokuto put his hands on the dog’s face and bent down to kiss his nose. 

“Can he come back on the couch with me?” Akaashi asked. 

“Sure! I think he likes you anyway. Ru, go to Akaashi.” Bokuto flicked his wrist in Akaashi’s direction, and the dog trotted back over to him. 

Akaashi patted his lap again, and Mamoru leapt up on the couch. He snuggled in right away, giving Akaashi’s hand a gentle lick. Akaashi smiled brightly. “Bokuto-san, I’m keeping your dog.”

“Um, no, he’s mine!”

“You abandoned me for eight years. I think this is reasonable compensation.”

Bokuto rolled his eyes, eliciting a sweet laugh from Akaashi, then went into the kitchen to make them breakfast. Afterwards, he settled on the other end of the couch. The pain medication Akaashi took made him drowsy, so he dozed while Bokuto watched a movie. Mamoru stayed curled up on the couch with them, napping peacefully with his head in Akaashi’s lap. 

It felt like the time they had spent together as teenagers. Barely three days had passed since their conversation in the car, and despite Akaashi telling himself he would keep Bokuto at arm’s length, he found himself taking comfort in his presence. It was almost as if no time had passed between them. The wounded part of Akaashi was anxious, but even that part of him had to admit that he had felt more like himself in the last three days with Bokuto than in the last three months trying to get over Konoha. 

Perhaps he was too trusting, and perhaps that was why Konoha had managed to fool him so completely. Perhaps he was trying to fill a void with Bokuto, but the void Bokuto had left was what caused Akaashi to seek comfort in Konoha. He had tried to fill a Bokuto-shaped gap with someone so drastically not Bokuto – that had been the true mistake. Akaashi knew better now, and he didn’t have the luxury to worry about Bokuto leaving again. This time, Akaashi would be the one leaving, and this was his only chance to mend the void he felt in his heart. 

As if he could tell Akaashi was thinking about him, Bokuto curled against the back of the couch, tucked his legs underneath him, and faced Akaashi. 

“Why are you moving to France?” he asked suddenly.

Akaashi pondered the question, petting Mamoru on the head softly. He had about thirty rehearsed answers, all depending on who was asking him, but none of them were the full truth. He considered giving a few of those explanations to Bokuto, but figured Bokuto would know he wasn’t getting the whole story. He’d always known when Akaashi wasn’t giving the full story. 

“I feel like I don’t deserve to work for the NPA anymore,” Akaashi finally answered. 

Bokuto frowned. “Well that’s silly. You’re clearly an excellent detective.”

Akaashi sighed, shifting uncomfortably. His chest felt full, like something was bubbling up inside him and wanted out. He realized that he’d never discussed the events that happened leading up to his resignation. It was his feelings, his heartbreak, that wanted out. 

“Konoha and I became partners shortly after he transferred to our station,” he said. 

Bokuto tilted his head, a little confused about Konoha’s relevance to the conversation, but he said nothing. From what he’d seen and heard, Akaashi never spoke about Konoha, so he wasn’t about to interrupt him with questions. 

“I actually didn’t really care for him at first,” Akaashi continued. “He was arrogant and self-centered, and he was obsessive about every little thing. He was good at his job though; it was like he could perform the job of anyone on the team. Hand him some gloves and an evidence collecting kit, and he could have probably done Kuroo’s job. He could look at a crime scene and deduce almost anything: victimology, motive, when the crime happened. I was so envious of him because I wanted to be that good.”

Akaashi began pulling at his fingers nervously. Bokuto sat quietly, allowing Akaashi to decide just what he wanted to say and how much he felt comfortable revealing. He wouldn’t make eye contact with Bokuto, opting to stare at Mamoru’s head instead. The dog rested peacefully in his new friend’s lap, snoring quietly. Akaashi rested his hands back on the dog’s head, gently pushing his fingers through the dark fur. The action seemed to ease his anxiety more than his normal fiddling. 

“I tried to copy what he did, but I could never quite see the things he saw. But I suppose it’s easy to read crime scenes when you’re a killer yourself. I mean, everyone always told me that you had to learn how to think like a criminal to some extent if you want to catch them. Some people take that a little more seriously than others, I suppose. 

“We spent a lot of time together, obviously, but only as partners. I never felt like I really knew him. He never talked about family or friends, and he never spent extra time with me, Oikawa, or Iwaizumi outside of work. Then, one day, maybe seven or eight months ago, he invited me out for drinks. It was actually right after your birthday, and I was sad because I missed you.”

Bokuto flinched a bit. 

“He was incredibly good at reading me,” Akaashi said, ignoring Bokuto’s reaction. He had mostly forgiven him, but it was still fair for Bokuto to know how much their lack of communication had hurt Akaashi, even after years had passed. “It was like I had my thoughts written on my face and he was just reading them off to me. It was actually really unsettling.

“We slept together for the first time that night. I don’t know if I was just lonely, or if I really was attracted to him, or maybe I’d just had too much to drink. But the next day, I told him it couldn’t happen again, and it didn’t for a while. It’s not like I make a habit of sleeping with coworkers. But then the first girl’s body showed up. 

“It was the first time I had seen Konoha not be able to read a crime scene like a book. It was terrifying at the time, but looking back, I realize it was just because he was covering his tracks. The case got so stressful because girls just kept dying and showing up all over the city. The media and the public were panicking. We had no leads. I was having nightmares, and I was staying at the station overnight. Daichi would come in and kick me out. My family was worried I was going to have a mental breakdown.”

Akaashi took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair before continuing. 

“Konoha seemed really stressed too, so I guess we sought comfort from each other? He always seemed to know exactly what to say to make me feel better or make me feel like I wasn’t failing as a detective. I mean, he was _so good_ at acting like he cared. I was scared and stressed and lonely, and he filled up this emptiness I had, so I just let it all happen. 

“I didn’t suspect anything until he was late to work one day. He was never late. I mean, he was usually there before I was, even on days I had spent the night. So when he was late, I knew something was wrong. But he brushed it off, told me he’d overslept and was just tired from the stress of the case. That all seemed normal, until I found out that he’d taken the train to work.”

Akaashi began speaking quickly, like he was desperately trying to get the story out. He sounded like he was in pain, and Bokuto almost suggested Akaashi take more medication. Akaashi didn’t give him the chance to interrupt, though. 

“Konoha hated the train. I mean, despised it; he would rather walk. Plus, he had his own car, so it made no sense for him to take the train. When I asked him about it, he said that his car needed some work done because he’d hit a deer over the weekend. A day or two later, a girl was reported missing, and a witness had come to us and told us she’d seen the girl get hit by a car and then the driver had taken the girl with them. 

“I felt like I was paranoid, but it all felt like too much of a coincidence. I started calling around to repair shops, and I finally found where Konoha’s car was. I went in to look at it, pretending to be him, and there was hardly any damage to the car. But when I looked in the trunk, I found a blood stain way in the back. I ripped some of the carpet up and took it with me to Kuroo. 

“Kuroo matched the blood on the carpet to the girl who had gone missing. Kenma tracked Konoha’s phone to his last known location, and the only building within that area was a big abandoned warehouse. I told Daichi, but I felt like I needed to get there in case I could save the girl. I went by myself, and when I got there, I walked in on Konoha stabbing her.

“I just wanted him to stop hurting her, so I shot him. And then I held that girl while she died. She died in my arms, and her blood was all over me. I still dream about it. I had to testify at the trial, and then the director told me to take a leave of absence. I extended the leave because I didn’t feel like I was ready to go back, and I felt like I had brought so much shame to the Agency. The media tore us apart, and I felt like it was my fault.

“I decided to apply to Interpol because I wanted to get as far away from Tokyo as possible. Honestly, I’m not even sure I’ll stay at Interpol. I mean, maybe I’ll just get a job in the country at some farm or something. Maybe I’ll change my name. I mean, I’m surprised Interpol even hired me after how much of a mess I made. I didn’t see that my own _partner_ was a killer, Bokuto. So that’s why I’m moving to France, because I feel like I can’t rightfully show my face in the NPA or in Tokyo.”

Akaashi couldn’t distinguish between the pain in his chest and the pain in his face, but he hoped his medication would take both away. He grabbed the bottle and took a dose, praying it would kick in soon and he could go to sleep. 

Bokuto took a moment to collect his thoughts. There were a million things he wanted to say, “I’m sorry” being the number one, but he wasn’t sure if Akaashi wanted him to say anything at all. Sometimes people just needed to get things off their chests. 

“Well, say something! I feel like I’m sitting in front of you naked and you’re just staring at me!” Akaashi blurted. 

“I’m sorry!” Bokuto held his hands up defensively, then grinned. “Though, Akaashi, I’ve already seen you—”

“Don’t even.”

“Okay, okay. But seriously, Akaashi, I don’t even really know what to say. I’m so sorry that you went through all of that.” Bokuto sighed and tugged at his hair. The idle thought that he needed a shower crossed his mind. “But you’re not a bad detective. I mean, how could you know that about Konoha? Who would guess that?”

Akaashi curled in on himself. “I might have. If I hadn’t let my feelings get in the way, maybe I would have seen it.”

“You said yourself that you didn’t suspect anything until his normal routine changed. He made a mistake, that’s how you caught him. Even if you hadn’t been sleeping together, I doubt you would have noticed anything. He was too good at wearing the mask and playing the part. He let you see what he wanted you to see.” 

Bokuto paused, thinking over his words. “But he wasn’t as good as he thought; he messed up. You’re a good detective because you know how to read people. I would have never suspected someone for a crime just from being late to work, taking a train, and claiming to have hit a deer with their car, especially not my partner. I think you’ll do great at Interpol. Your insight is going to save a lot of people. Don’t let some narcissistic, manipulative prick convince you that you’re not good enough. You’re the one who caught him, Akaashi. Take pride in that. Don’t let yourself be one of his victims.”

Akaashi let Bokuto’s words sink in. He wondered if Bokuto knew just how good he was at saying the right things at the right time. His simple logic trumped any negative thoughts or overcomplicated thinking Akaashi could muster.

Akaashi gave Bokuto a small smile. “You’re right, Bokuto-san. I can’t let myself be one of his victims. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

Bokuto beamed. Then he leaned forward and touched Akaashi’s discolored cheek gently. Akaashi leaned into it on instinct.

“How does your arm feel? I should check the stitches,” Bokuto said. 

“It’s okay,” Akaashi replied. His eyes felt heavy; his medication was starting to take effect.

Bokuto noticed, and he untucked his legs from underneath him and stood. “Get some rest. I’ll make something to eat and check your stitches after.”

Akaashi nodded and settled deeper into the couch, letting Mamoru readjust on his lap. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiled softly and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Akaashi’s forehead. Akaashi hummed and closed his eyes, leaning into Bokuto’s lips and missing them when he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read Little Love, you know I have a thing for the Haikyuu boys having pets. I always picture Bo as an animal person in general, but it felt right to give him a dog in this fic.
> 
> If anyone is curious, Mamoru is an Akita. His name means "defend" or "protect." If you want to see my inspiration for him, Google image search "black akita dog" and let your heart melt over how cute all those dogs are.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I wasn't going to update until tomorrow, but I wanted to do it before I went to bed since I plan on sleeping in.  
> Thank you all for being so patient and understanding with me. I am feeling much better after taking a break, but I am going to continue taking things slow. I don't want to feel that burnt out again because I love writing.  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!  
> Thanks for all your love and support!

“What the hell happened to your face?”

Akaashi looked up from pouring his coffee. Iwaizumi stood at the end of the counter, his brows pulled together as he examined the bruises that still dusted the bridge of Akaashi’s nose. They had started to heal in the week that had passed since his attack, yellowish now at the very edges, but his nose was still very much broken and blackened from its unceremonious meeting with his mailbox. 

“I lost a fight,” Akaashi replied, smiling a little. “I didn’t know you were coming back so soon.”

Iwaizumi smirked and rolled the shoulder he’d been shot in. “Eh, I’m fine. I was tired of sitting at home, so I convinced Daichi to let me come back. He was worried about my mental health and wanted me cleared, so I’m here for that today. I don’t know why he’s so worried, it was just a shoulder wound.”

“You’re right, it’s not like most people have some psychological repercussions after being shot,” Akaashi said sarcastically, taking a sip of his coffee and raising a brow at Iwaizumi. 

They walked together to their desks where Oikawa was already sitting. Akaashi flopped into his chair, staring distastefully at the crime scene photos that covered the surface of his desk.

Iwaizumi swiveled slowly in his chair, eyeing the photos. “So, did you just fist fight it out with Bokuto or something?” 

Akaashi laughed. “No, Bokuto-san and I are getting along just fine.”

Iwaizumi glanced over to Oikawa, who snorted and smirked at Akaashi.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan, _just fine_ ,” Oikawa cooed. Akaashi glared at him, and Iwaizumi laughed. 

Summoned by the mention of his name in the conversation, Bokuto approached the three of them and leaned against Akaashi’s desk. He dropped some more photos down, letting them flop with a sharp _smack_ against the other photos.

“I’m tired of looking at these, I’m not finding any more clues. You look at them, you’re the profiler,” he said. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “So are you, Bokuto-san,” he said as he gathered the photos up into a neat pile. He set them on an unoccupied corner of his desk. “I’m not seeing anything else, either. I think we’re wasting our time.”

Iwaizumi scooted his chair across the aisle and peered down at the photos. “Maybe I could take a look at them. Fresh eyes, you know?”

Before Akaashi or Bokuto could reply, the doors to the station opened and Daichi stalked in, dragging a flustered looking Kenma behind him. Kuroo scampered in after them, securing the doors to the station behind him. A surge of voices had followed the three of them into the building, now muffled by the doors.

“Are those reporters?” Oikawa asked, standing to get a better look outside. 

Daichi ignored him, pointing at the TV mounted on the wall instead. “Turn on the news.” 

Iwaizumi hurried to grab the remote, clicking the TV on and turning it to the local news. Kenma scurried away from Daichi and Kuroo and went to stand close to Akaashi, trying to distance himself from the door and the noises of the reporters. Kuroo joined him after a moment, hovering protectively near him, while Daichi glared at the TV from the base of the steps leading to his office. 

Bold red letters filled up the bottom portion of the screen, alerting viewers to breaking news. A young reporter was standing in front of a police station, and they all recognized it as their own. 

The woman was just beginning her report: _–orning a letter was delivered to our news station. The contents of the letter contained details about an unnamed individual who has allegedly been kidnapped. The letter linked this act directly to the recent murders of a similar nature to the ones committed by convicted serial killer, Konoha Akinori, arrested and tried a few months ago for the murders of six young women. Konoha Akinori was working as an NPA detective at the time. The NPA has been investigating these recent copycat murders, though they have declined to comment on the progress of the investigation._

Akaashi felt Kenma grip the sleeve of his shirt tightly as the reporter continued. 

_Detective Akaashi Keiji, who had been partners with Konoha Akinori at the time he was committing the murders, has been named specifically in the letter delivered this morning. Detective Akaashi works here at this station behind me, under the command of Captain Sawamura Daichi. The letter states that Detective Akaashi has three days to find this missing person. It does not specify what will happen after those three days; Captain Sawamura declined to comment on his way into the station this morning._

“What are they talking about? What letter? What’s going on?” Bokuto asked, looking back and forth between Akaashi and Daichi frantically. 

Akaashi opened his mouth to answer as his phone began ringing. He glanced down at the caller ID, confused to find Hinata’s mother calling him. He stepped away from his desk, distancing himself from his coworkers, who were animatedly trying to process the information they had just been given.

Akaashi answered the call as soon as he was a reasonable distance away. “Hello? Hinata-san? Is everything okay?”

“Akaashi? Akaashi, is Shouyou with you?” Hinata’s mother sounded frantic and distressed on the other end of the call.

“I—” Akaashi glanced around the room, as if the small, orange-haired boy had somehow snuck into the station unnoticed, “No, Hinata-san. Shouyou isn’t here with me, I’m at work. I haven’t seen him since our last meeting. Shouldn’t he be at school?”

Hinata’s mother took a gasping breath, and Akaashi could hear that she was crying. “Shouyou didn’t come home last night. I just saw the news report. Akaashi, did they take Hinata?”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, and Akaashi turned to stare helplessly at Daichi. Across the room, Daichi’s phone rang. He answered it, speaking softly with whomever had called him, then made eye contact with Akaashi. His eyes were wide, and his face was ghost-white. 

“Hinata-san,” Akaashi said into the phone. His voice barely came out above a whisper, so he cleared his throat before he continued. “We will find Shouyou. Can you come to the station?”

Hinata’s mother agreed. Akaashi ended the call, still staring at Daichi’s blood-depleted face. Daichi crossed the room to him. 

“That was the captain at Shinjuku Station,” Daichi said, holding up his phone. He was speaking slowly, like Akaashi wouldn’t understand him otherwise. “They received a package on their steps this morning. It contained a boy’s school jacket, sized small, a cell phone, and a lock of hair.”

Akaashi felt someone grab his shirt sleeve again, tugging on it gently; someone was trying to get him to sit down. He ignored them, staring at Daichi instead. 

“It was probably the person who was kidnapped,” Akaashi said, his voice hollow. “But I can’t go talk to them right now. Hinata’s mother called, she said he didn’t come home last night. I have to help her find him.”

The tugging on his shirt sleeve was more insistent now, and Akaashi looked to his side to see Kenma pulling on him. His face was etched with worry, and he was trying to coax Akaashi into a chair nearby. Akaashi ignored him. His body felt heavy and it was like the air around him was buzzing. 

“Akaashi, the cell phone belonged to Hinata,” Daichi said carefully. “And I asked the director to tell me the color of the hair. It matches Hinata’s.”

The way all the color drained from Akaashi’s face made Daichi’s heart stutter. Daichi had introduced Akaashi to Hinata and Kageyama; he knew both boys personally, and he knew how close Akaashi was with them. The reality of the situation was hitting Akaashi harder than he had been slammed into the wall when he was attacked. Daichi half expected him to drop dead where he stood.

Akaashi didn’t drop dead, but he did stumble. He reached out a shaky hand to catch himself on a desk, but he missed and pitched forward toward the floor. Kenma fumbled to catch Akaashi, wrapping an arm around his torso. Bokuto rushed over to help, supporting Akaashi while Kenma dragged over the chair he’d been trying to get Akaashi to sit in. Bokuto helped Akaashi sit, then knelt in front of him. 

“Akaashi, you have to breathe,” Bokuto said, taking Akaashi’s hands and clasping them tightly in his own. 

“He’s just a kid,” Akaashi whispered. He was staring at Bokuto with wide eyes. “They’re going to kill him.”

“We’re going to find him,” Bokuto replied. He squeezed Akaashi’s hands gently. “Your hands are shaking. You need to breathe.” He spoke quietly, keeping his voice even. Akaashi was on the verge of a panic attack, and Bokuto wanted to keep him from tipping over that edge. 

Oikawa placed a cup of water on the desk next to Akaashi then rested his hand on the other’s shoulder. Iwaizumi glared outside at the reporters that were still swarming the building. He had heard Akaashi ask Hinata’s mother to come to the station, and he didn’t want her to be bombarded by them when she arrived. He desperately wanted to be helpful, so he decided to go stand near the door to wait and help Hinata’s mother inside.

“Akaashi, can I have Hinata’s phone number?” Kenma asked, picking up Akaashi’s phone. “I know Shinjuku has his phone, but maybe I can track it to where it last pinged off towers. Then we can at least know where he was.”

Akaashi nodded, and Kenma scrolled through the contacts until he got the number. He scribbled it down and then rushed to his office. Kuroo hurried over to Daichi and asked for permission to go to Shinjuku and get the evidence to test it. Daichi granted it to him, and Kuroo rushed out of the station, expertly dodging reporters. 

“Bokuto, this is my fault,” Akaashi whispered. “I should have had them put under protective watch. I should have stopped seeing them. Oh my God, is Kageyama okay?” His gaze snapped to Daichi. 

“I will call his mother,” Daichi said. “Bokuto, please take Akaashi home.”

“What? No!” Akaashi leapt up from his seat, nearly knocking Bokuto over. “I’m not going home! We have to find Hinata!”

“You are way too emotionally involved,” Daichi replied. “I should have never asked you to come back on this case. That was a mistake. I am sorry. I’ll take the case myself, and I’ll pull Oikawa and Iwaizumi to help and we will finish it.”

“I’m not going home. You’re not my boss anymore, Daichi,” Akaashi said. “If you want me out, you had better get the director to kick me out of the station.”

Bokuto regained his balance and stood. “With all due respect, Captain: Akaashi knows this case better than anyone. You said that yourself. If anyone can find Hinata, it’s him.”

“Please, he’s just going to investigate on his own if you pull him,” Iwaizumi said from across the room. “You know he will, Daichi, and he’ll get himself killed that way. Just let him stay.”

Daichi sighed, scrubbing his hand across his face. Akaashi had lost the fearful, shocked look from before; now he just looked angry and determined. And Daichi was pretty sure if he insisted Akaashi go home again, Akaashi might physically attack him. 

“Fine,” he said, waving his hand. “Go to Shinjuku and look at the evidence with Kuroo. Leave out the back, I don’t want those reporters to get ahold of you.”

“What about Hinata’s mother?” Akaashi asked. 

“Iwaizumi and I will talk to her,” Daichi replied. “Go.”

Bokuto drove to Shinjuku, worried that Akaashi might crash the car. Akaashi fiddled nervously with his fingers, staring intently out the window. 

“What are you thinking?” Bokuto asked.

“I’m wondering why they put the box at Shinjuku. And I want to know how they knew about my relationship with Hinata and Kageyama,” Akaashi replied.

Bokuto hummed. “Hinata and Kageyama live in this district, right? Someone may have seen you with them. We should check the patrol logs and see who was moving in and out of the station when you would have been with them. Maybe we can narrow down who may have seen you.”

“Bokuto-san, are you suggesting that the murderers work out of Shinjuku Station?”

Bokuto turned into the station parking lot, putting the car in park and throwing off his seatbelt. “Hinata lives in this area. I think it’s a good place to start.”

Akaashi followed him out of the car and into the station. The captain was there waiting for them. Bokuto requested to speak with the technical analyst, and the captain took them to his office. They found a small man tapping away on his computer, and a taller man was perched on the edge of a chair next to him. 

“Excuse me,” Bokuto said, gaining their attention. 

“Ah, you’re probably with Kuroo,” the smaller one said. He turned and booted the taller man out of his seat. “Sit down. I’m Yaku, this is Lev. He’s an intern, so ignore him because he says dumb things.”

“Hey!” Lev protested. He crossed his arms and pouted in the corner of the room. 

Akaashi sat in the chair next to Yaku. “We need to see the patrol logs and what officers were in and out of this station for the last three weeks.”

Yaku huffed. “That’s a lot.”

“Narrow it down to Tuesdays and Thursdays in the evenings. Anywhere between five and nine,” Akaashi replied. 

Yaku nodded and turned to his computer. A window filled with names popped up on the screen, and as Yaku continued to type, names started disappearing. Shortly, there was a list of about six names.

“Can you trace the GPS on their cars and show us where they all went?” Bokuto asked. 

“I mean, sure, but can I ask why?” Yaku swiveled in his chair to face them. 

“Is this about that missing kid?” Lev asked. 

“We need to see if anyone from this station spent any time near the recreation center or the boy’s address,” Akaashi replied. 

Yaku narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting someone that works in this station took that kid?”

“We’re covering all our bases,” Bokuto said. 

“This station isn’t like yours,” Lev said defensively. “We don’t have serial killers in our ranks.”

“Lev, shut up,” Yaku barked. “You just started working here, you don’t know.”

Lev gaped. “You don’t seriously think so, do you Yaku?”

Yaku shrugged and turned to his computers, starting to track the GPS. “No one thinks anyone they know are capable of being killers. You can’t assume anything.” 

A few keystrokes showed that none of the officers that had patrolled the nights Akaashi had been with Hinata and Kageyama placed them near the recreation center or either boys’ homes. Akaashi deflated; he’d been praying that approach would give them lead.

“The people in this station are good,” Yaku said as Akaashi and Bokuto were leaving his office. “But I know the wrong kind of people are very good at hiding who they really are. If you need more help, please let us know.”

Akaashi and Bokuto thanked them both. 

“What do we do now?” Bokuto asked. 

“I guess find Kuroo and look at the evidence,” Akaashi replied. 

The captain brought them to the lab, where Kuroo was examining the box and its contents. 

“Did you bust in here and kick their forensic analyst out?” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo grinned. “I asked to be the one to do the testing since the evidence came to this station. We can’t risk anyone tampering with evidence, right?”

Akaashi reached out to touch the neatly folded jacket sitting next to the box, but he stopped himself when he realized he could be the one tampering with the evidence if he did so. Kuroo offered him a pair of gloves, but Akaashi waved them away. He was afraid he would get too emotional if he held Hinata’s jacket. 

Kuroo seemed to understand. He tapped the box sitting on the table. “This was completely unmarked, but there are fingerprints all over it. Just one set, so either the person who delivered it is very confident they won’t get caught, or they didn’t kidnap Hinata so they wouldn’t think to conceal their prints.” 

Then he held up the lock of orange hair, held together by a small rubber band. “Hinata’s hair looks like it was sawed off with a knife, not clean cut with scissors.”

Akaashi shuddered, and Bokuto glared at Kuroo. 

“Um…sorry,” Kuroo mumbled, setting the hair down. He placed a gentle hand on Hinata’s jacket. “There was nothing on Hinata’s jacket that raised any alarm. It looks like it was just placed in the box to prove that they had Hinata. Same with his cell phone. I glanced through it, but nothing stood out to me. I’m going to take it back to Kenma and have him comb through it. I’m sure he can find more than I can.”

“So there was no sign of them actually hurting Hinata?” Bokuto asked. 

Kuroo shook his head. “No, none. I don’t think the hair was even cut anywhere near his scalp. It looks like they just grabbed a piece and cut it off. Again, I think most of this was just to prove to you, Akaashi, that it was actually Hinata that they took.”

Akaashi grimaced. “Well, I got their message loud and clear. Thank you, Kuroo. Keep us updated, okay?”

Kuroo nodded and began to gather the evidence back into the box. He told Akaashi and Bokuto he was going back to their station to run more thorough tests. They bid him farewell, making their way out of Shinjuku Station themselves. On their way out, they noticed Sarukui and Komi waving them over from their desks.

“You look rough,” Komi said, eyeing Akaashi’s bruises. 

“I’ve had a long week,” Akaashi replied. 

“Did Yaku help you guys find anything?” Sarukui asked. 

“No. We’re back at square one,” Bokuto said. 

Akaashi eyed the cameras that were positioned all around the building. “Hey, do you know who dropped the package here?”

Komi and Sarukui shook their heads.

“Yaku looked this morning, but whoever it was never got close enough to be in shot of the cameras,” Komi replied. “They dropped the box right at the bottom corner of the steps, so in the shot we can only see a shoulder and the person’s hand. It was also dark, and they didn’t stick around long.”

“But maybe you should check the local traffic cameras,” Sarukui suggested. “I’m sure you could get a warrant. Maybe you would see them leaving, or at least what they’re driving.”

Komi stared at Akaashi for a moment. “The person who took this kid wants to get to you, right?” he asked.

Akaashi fidgeted. “Yeah. I’m pretty positive this is about me, since I’m the one who caught Konoha.”

“I think the traffic cams are a good starting point,” Bokuto said. He nodded at Komi and Sarukui. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

Sarukui grinned. “Anytime.”

Akaashi and Bokuto left the station, climbing back into Bokuto’s car. As Akaashi was buckling in, he pulled his phone out. 

“Bokuto-san take us to the prison,” he said, dialing Daichi’s number. 

Bokuto faltered as he put the car in drive. “What, why?”

“I’m going to interview Konoha again.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I literally updated like, two days ago, but I wanted to post this chapter because I've been on a roll. I am about to finish writing chapter 13, but I'll probably take a break from writing tomorrow. 
> 
> I would say expect another update soon, and probably for this fic to be posted in its entirety by the end of the week. I'm feeling much more rested, and I'm excited to finish this fic and post it for you guys to read. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Bokuto and Akaashi stood side-by-side in the observation room. Konoha sat in the interrogation room, securely chained in place. He looked bored. 

Akaashi had no plan; he didn’t have case files, an end goal, or even a good bargaining chip to get Konoha to talk. He just wanted Konoha to tell him something, _anything_ that might lead to finding Hinata. Akaashi was, truthfully, just hoping that maybe Konoha had a shred of humanity in him and would help. If nothing else, Akaashi was willing to beg. He wasn’t too prideful if it meant saving Hinata’s life. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bokuto asked. He could feel Akaashi practically buzzing next to him, and it made him nervous. 

Akaashi shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me in there with you?”

“No. I’m doing this alone.”

“Daichi is worried you might lose your cool.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Daichi isn’t my dad. I’ll be fine.” He crossed the small space and reached for the door to enter the interrogation room. He took a moment to steel his nerves and steady his breathing, then entered. 

Konoha glanced up at Akaashi, immediately noting the stiffness in his shoulders. His normal passive look had given way to a crease of worry forming between his brows. Konoha knew the look well: Akaashi was feeling desperate.

Akaashi sat across from Konoha, and he clasped his hands below the table to conceal his fidgeting. 

Konoha grinned at him. “Why so nervous, Akaashi? Something happen?” 

“Konoha, a boy has gone missing,” Akaashi said. He had no problem telling the prisoner exactly why he was there; he didn’t have time to play games. “The people who have been committing these new murders have taken him, and we know that you were the one directing them. I need you to tell me where Hinata is. He has nothing to do with this, or with you and me.”

The air in the room was heavy, palpable. Akaashi felt like he could easily reach out, gather a handful of it, and shove it away from him so maybe he could breathe a little more easily. 

Konoha shifted in his chair, relaxing his shoulders. Bokuto caught the body language on the other side of the observation room, and it only served to increase his anxiety. Konoha wasn’t the least bit surprised this happened, nor was he planning on helping. Bokuto knew he should pull Akaashi from the room before things went downhill, but he wanted to find Hinata just as badly and Konoha might be their only chance at getting a lead. 

“Akaashi, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Konoha replied smoothly. “You cut off my communication with the outside, remember? I haven’t received or sent a letter in weeks.”

“I want to believe that you didn’t tell them to take Hinata, I really do.” Akaashi was going to have to beg. “You’ve never hurt children. This is between you and me, and I’ll sit here and let you tell me whatever you want. I’ll talk to a judge and get you moved to a lower security facility. Please, just tell me where Hinata is. If you know anything, please tell me. He’s just a kid, Konoha. He’s never done anything wrong.”

“You’re awfully conceited about this, Akaashi.” Konoha sighed dramatically and leaned forward in his chair, clasping his cuffed hands together. “But you’re right. This is about you and me.”

Akaashi swallowed the lump in his throat. “Then please tell me where Hinata is.”

“Did you ever wonder why I did it, Akaashi? Why I killed those girls?”

“I don’t need to wonder why, Konoha. You’re a sociopath. You can’t help yourself.”

Konoha snorted and leaned away. “Please, just because I’m a sociopath doesn’t mean I can’t control myself. Plenty of sociopaths live totally normal lives and don’t run around killing other people.”

“Okay, then remember that you’re the one who said so, not me,” Akaashi replied. He didn’t want Konoha to pull him off topic. “But I don’t care why you did it, Konoha. I just want to know where Hinata is.”

Konoha hummed. “My whole childhood, my mother used to tell me that I looked just like my father. Except she hated my father, because he left us.”

“That’s nice. Where is Hinata?”

“That means she hated me, too, Akaashi. Isn’t that horrible?” Konoha frowned. “But she never acted like she hated me. In fact, she was always sickeningly sweet to me, like she was afraid I would leave too. I hated her for that. I hated her because she was lying to me. Why couldn’t she just be honest?”

“Konoha, we can talk about this later. Where is Hinata?” Akaashi could feel his blood pressure rising. 

Konoha smirked. “I hated my mother so much that I started hating other women. Any girl who looked like her, I hated her. I wanted those women dead because I wanted my own mother dead. I used to fantasize about killing girls when I was a teenager, and then in college. Anytime a girl was nice to me, I wanted to reach out and wrap my hands around her neck. I wanted to choke the life out of her because that’s what liars deserve. They were all liars.”

Akaashi clenched his hands together, digging his nails into the tops of his hands. He needed to ground himself, stay focused on getting information about where Hinata might be, instead of letting himself get worked up. Konoha knew how to play him, but he needed to stay calm. 

“But then I met you, Akaashi. And you were so different,” Konoha continued. He smiled, and it was almost real. “I mean, you were just so _pretty._ Maybe prettier, actually, than any girl I had ever seen. But you were never sweet to me; you hated me. I could tell from the moment we met that you couldn’t stand me, and it made me want you so badly.”

“Where is Hinata?”

“I thought about killing you, you know. But I never had a reason to, because you never actually cared about me. Every time you let me touch you, it was so _you_ could feel better. You weren’t like any of those girls; you weren’t like my mother. You never lied and pretended like I meant something to you. And you know what? That pissed me off even more. It made me _hate_ you even more than I ever hated those girls. How _dare_ you not care about me?”

Akaashi thought he should walk away from the conversation. Konoha was pushing all the right buttons, but Akaashi needed to find Hinata. 

Konoha paused and examined Akaashi’s face. His steely blue eyes were sharp as knives. 

_If looks could kill…_ Konoha thought with a grin. Then he continued.

“I pretended like that first girl was you. It was so gratifying, I felt like I was actually killing you. I had killed other girls before her. Feeling like I had killed my mother was amazing, but nothing compared to the release I got when I fantasized about killing you.” Konoha leaned in close to Akaashi again. “It was better than actually having sex with you. Can you imagine?”

Akaashi’s lip curled in disgust. “How many girls have you actually murdered? We only found six. But everything you did was in rounds of seven. Was that because your father walked out when you were seven, Konoha?”

Konoha’s eyes grew larger and he jerked back, snarling. 

Akaashi smirked. “That’s right, I know all about you. I dug through every aspect of your life after we arrested you. Do you blame your mother for your father leaving? Or do you blame yourself? He couldn’t stand to look at you, could he? Because he saw the monster that you were. I interviewed him, Konoha. He told me about the animal bodies he found buried in the backyard. He knew what you were—”

“Shut up,” Konoha spat.

“No, _you_ shut up!” Akaashi slammed his hands on the table. “I’m tired of playing these games! I don’t care how you felt about your mother or your father, and I don’t care how you felt about me! You’re wrong, because I did care about you, because I’m not a narcissistic sociopath! And you don’t get to blame _me_ for the things that _you did!_ Tell me where Hinata is! Now!”

Konoha glared daggers back at Akaashi. “You think you’re so much smarter than I am because you caught me, don’t you? Well, you’re not. You had the answers right there, right beneath you, and you never even saw it. I practically laid it all out for you and you saw nothing. Hinata will die and you’ll never find him, just like you never found the seventh girl. And you’ll spend the rest of your life trapped in your mind, trying to figure out where you went wrong. You’re going to be a prisoner just like me, Akaashi.”

Akaashi stood so abruptly that the chair he was sitting in flew backwards and crashed into the wall. He reached forward and gathered up Konoha’s prison uniform in his fists, lifting the man as much off his seat as he could. Akaashi vaguely registered the sound of doors opening, and he thought he heard a guard shout at him to drop Konoha. He ignored it.

“Tell me where he is right now or I swear to God I will kill you,” he hissed, face-to-face with Konoha. 

Konoha only smirked devilishly as guards tried to pry Akaashi’s hands away from his shirt. Akaashi felt strong arms around him, and he realized that Bokuto had also entered the room. He was swatting away the guards, pulling Akaashi off Konoha on his own. 

Akaashi struggled against him, kicking his legs and bucking. He wasn’t letting Konoha get away with this. Bokuto managed to pry Akaashi off Konoha, and the prisoner dropped back into his chair with a thud.

“Let me go! He knows where Hinata is!” Akaashi screamed, smacking Bokuto in the face.

Bokuto was hardly phased; he just hauled Akaashi up by the waist and wrestled his arms down, trapping them against his sides in a steel grip. Akaashi continued to struggle, and a guard ordered Bokuto to remove Akaashi from the room. 

As Bokuto was pulling Akaashi away, Konoha laughed loudly. 

“I win, Akaashi!” he yelled. “I win and you lose!”

“Oh shut up,” Bokuto barked back. He yanked Akaashi through the door and deposited him on the floor of the observation room, standing against the door into the interrogation room so Akaashi couldn’t dart back in there as the guards unshackled Konoha. 

Akaashi leapt up from the floor and slammed his body into Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto had to admit that Akaashi packed a lot of force in his slender body, and the impact may have winded Bokuto a bit, but he didn’t budge. Akaashi realized this and grew even more frustrated, and he started smacking and punching Bokuto’s arms and chest. 

“I’m not done!” he screamed. The guards were dragging Konoha out of the interrogation room, and Akaashi turned to yank the door to the hallway open and go after them. 

Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s arms and wrapped his entire body in an unbreakable grip, holding him against his chest. 

“You need to calm down,” Bokuto said into his ear. Akaashi struggled against him a bit longer, but he was losing the fire that he’d previously had. “You cannot go after him. You can’t help Hinata if you end up in jail for assaulting a prisoner, even if he deserves it.”

Akaashi finally stopped struggling and slumped against Bokuto. Slowly, Bokuto released his hold and Akaashi buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking from his sobs. Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi again, but this time in a hug instead of holding him in place so he didn’t commit murder. Akaashi cried hard into Bokuto’s shoulder, curling his fingers into Bokuto’s shirt and letting all his frustration, anger, and fear drain out of him in the form of tears. 

Bokuto held him and spoke soft words. He promised him that it wasn’t too late, and they would find Hinata. He told Akaashi that he wasn’t a bad detective and none of this was his fault. 

A guard came to escort them out of the prison, and they drove back to the station in silence. Once they arrived, Daichi insisted that Akaashi go home and get some rest. He was met with vehement opposition from Akaashi, of course, but Kenma came and told him that he had acquired the traffic tapes that they had asked for. Bokuto convinced Daichi to let them take the tapes and look at them at home if Akaashi agreed to go, which he did. Bokuto also promised Daichi that he wouldn’t leave Akaashi alone or let him out of his sight. Daichi agreed, and Bokuto took the tapes and Akaashi with him.

______________________

Akaashi glanced up from his lap where Mamoru lay sleeping as Bokuto walked into the living room. He was carrying a handful of blankets and his laptop.

“I just talked to Daichi,” Bokuto said. He dumped the blankets on the couch and set his laptop on the coffee table. “He said Kageyama is fine and they’ve put his and Hinata’s families in protective custody.”

Akaashi nodded mutely, and Bokuto unfolded a blanket to drape around Akaashi’s shoulders. Akaashi hadn’t said more than ten words since they had returned to Bokuto’s home. Instead, he just sat on the couch silently and cradled Mamoru’s head in his lap.

Bokuto opened his laptop and slipped in the first disk from the traffic cameras. He readied the footage but paused before he began playing it. 

“You should eat something,” he told Akaashi. 

Akaashi shook his head. “I’m not hungry. I just want to look at these and see if we can find anything.”

Bokuto frowned. “Can you at least drink some water? I told Daichi I would make you rest, but I know you’re not going to do that until Hinata is found. At least try to stay hydrated? And maybe eat something later?”

“Okay,” Akaashi replied. Bokuto hopped up and entered the kitchen to get a glass of water. He returned with a couple protein bars and placed them on the table next to Akaashi’s water. 

When Akaashi side-eyed him, Bokuto shrugged. “In case you get hungry. I thought about making popcorn but that felt sort of morbid.”

Akaashi couldn’t help but smile. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders tighter and looked down at the dog in his lap. “I’m sorry for how I acted at the prison today.”

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to kill him too.”

“I lost control. It was inappropriate.”

“Drink your water and stop apologizing for hating someone who is trying to torture you.” Bokuto leaned forward and hit play on his laptop.

Akaashi nodded and took a sip of his drink. 

The next three hours were spent in relative silence, carefully watching the footage from the traffic cameras. They stopped and rewound the footage multiple times, tracking each vehicle that passed and each person that entered the frames. They had footage from three separate angles, so it took a lot of time for them to find the car or person they were tracking in each one. Akaashi would jot down the time stamps, and then Bokuto would fast-forward to that time on each disk.

Another two hours passed, and Akaashi finally gave in and ate one of the protein bars. Bokuto made them coffee, and Mamoru had long since trotted off to Bokuto’s bedroom, disturbed by the amount of times Akaashi was shifting as he leaned forward to look more closely at the screen. By the time it was well into the night, both of them were feeling defeated. None of the vehicles or people went anywhere near Shinjuku Station, and they saw no one carrying a package in any of the surrounding cameras’ footage. 

Akaashi leaned his head back against the couch and groaned. He was exhausted and frustrated, and he could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He was overly emotional because of his tiredness, and his face was starting to ache. He refused to take any pain medication, though, since it made him drowsy even when he was well rested. 

“We’re barely halfway through the night that these cameras recorded, we still have a lot to watch,” Bokuto told him. “There’s going to be something, we just have to wait for it. Maybe we should go closer to the time it was discovered and work backwards.”

Akaashi sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I doubt they would have wanted to risk some random person finding the box, so maybe they dropped it closer to when the shifts were going to change.”

Bokuto forwarded the time to the hour the box had been discovered, then set the tape in rewind. They watched at the screen stayed mostly void of movement, the early morning hours usually quiet. The occasional car passed by, but none stopped or even slowed. Akaashi sipped more of his coffee, which was cold at this point, but he needed the caffeine to stay awake. 

The time stamp on the footage read 5:17 AM when Akaashi noticed movement in the corner of the screen. He saw the flash of car taillights, then the corner of a driver’s side door swing shut. It was barely in the frame, but the vehicle was parked caddy-corner to the station. 

“Look,” Akaashi said, pointing. “Put in the camera that faces down this street. I want to see what this vehicle is doing.”

Bokuto obeyed, fast-forwarding the tape to the time stamp a few minutes before 5:17 AM to watch the footage play forward. At this angle, they could see that the vehicle was a large industrial van, like one used to make local deliveries. They watched as a young man stepped out of the van, looking around nervously. They couldn’t make out his features, but he was wearing a uniform that indicated he delivered packages. The man reached into the van and pulled out a box. Then he disappeared around the van as he walked up the street.

Bokuto pulled that disk out and popped in the third one, which showed the angle of the street that Shinjuku Station was on. The station wasn’t in the frame in this footage, instead off to the left. The camera focused primarily on the intersection next to the station, but they could watch the delivery man round the corner with his package. 

The man kept glancing around nervously, then darted across the street towards the station. He was off screen for a few seconds, then returned, sans package. Akaashi practically jumped off the couch. 

“That’s him! That’s him!” He fumbled with his phone as he spoke. “Pull up the footage of the van again. I’ll send a picture to Kenma so he can track the plate.”

Bokuto did so, and Akaashi sent the photo to Kenma with an explanation. Kenma replied instantly, telling him that he would have an answer in the morning and that Akaashi needed to go to sleep. 

Akaashi ignored the text and threw himself at Bokuto, who caught him with a surprised grunt. Akaashi wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s neck and hugged him tightly. 

“We found him. We found him, Bokuto,” Akaashi said softly. 

Bokuto smiled and hugged Akaashi back. “I told you we would. Now you should get some rest. We can track this guy down first thing tomorrow, but you’ll be useless if that brain of yours doesn’t get some sleep.”

Akaashi nodded, but he didn’t move from his position. Instead, he buried his face deeper into Bokuto’s neck, ignoring the sting that the contact created on his bruised face. Bokuto was warm and strong, and Akaashi was relishing in the comfort that being so close to him brought.

It was a familiar comfort, one that Akaashi had sought after often when he was a teenager. It created the same feeling in his chest that he got when he saw his childhood home after not being able to visit for months. It tugged at his heart like invisible strings, gently guiding him down a path toward the warmth and security of a fire in a hearth. 

The tumultuous feelings and thoughts rolling around inside Akaashi were quieted for a moment, and he was hesitant to let that go no matter how much he wanted to sleep. He finally felt like he’d taken a step in the direction of finding the people responsible for this stress and fear, and relief rushed over him like gentle waves. It felt as though letting go of Bokuto would only cause the waves to grow rough again, so Akaashi clung to him like he was his lifeline. 

Bokuto clung back. He didn’t mind if Akaashi fell asleep on him like this, as long as Akaashi rested and felt safe. He was afraid to let go of Akaashi, afraid that he might disappear if he did so. Bokuto was afraid that Konoha’s disciples would take Akaashi away, too, and then Bokuto would never find him or Hinata. 

It had been too long since Bokuto had held Akaashi in this way; even if it was only for a few hours, Bokuto wasn’t going to let the opportunity go. He pressed his face into Akaashi’s tousled hair, breathing in his clean scent and hugging him tightly. Even though years had passed, Akaashi’s body still fit against Bokuto’s perfectly, every dip and curve clicking into place like he belonged pressed against him. 

The hem of Akaashi’s shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of smooth, white skin. Bokuto slid his fingers along that skin gently, soaking up the heat that flowed from Akaashi’s body and into Bokuto’s fingertips. Akaashi hummed and sighed softly against Bokuto’s neck. The familiarity and comfort they found in each other caused their bodies to melt together, and then Akaashi was lifting himself up on his elbows and kissing Bokuto. 

The fleeting thought that this was only a visceral reaction to the stress of the situation crossed Akaashi’s mind. He remembered reading about how some of the normal bodily reactions to fear – increased blood pressure and shortness of breath – can sometimes be confused with attraction and cause someone to become more physically attracted to another; _misattribution of arousal_ is what it was called. 

Perhaps that was the case, but Akaashi didn’t think so. Nor did he care to wonder too much about it. The truth was, he had loved Bokuto since he was sixteen. He had spent two years giving Bokuto more love than he had thought himself capable, and he had longed for that kind of intimacy and contact since they had parted ways. He had spent the last eight years trying to fill that void, and now he finally could. There was no room left for waiting and wondering, for just staying friends. Akaashi saw now how easily someone could slip away from you, possibly never come back into your life, and that terrified him. He had let Bokuto go once, he wasn’t going to do it again. 

Bokuto’s body acted before his brain caught up. One hand pressed flat against the small of Akaashi’s back, the other cupped Akaashi’s cheek as Bokuto returned the kiss. It was sweet, just an innocent pressing of lips to lips. Bokuto felt warmth blossom in his chest and spread throughout his body. He pulled Akaashi closer to him, and Akaashi hummed in response. 

Akaashi deepened the kiss, and it felt almost as if he was desperate for as much physical contact as possible. Bokuto complied to Akaashi’s silent requests, circling his arms around his waist and pulling Akaashi as close as he possibly could. Akaashi’s fingers tangled themselves in Bokuto’s hair, and he parted his lips slightly to allow Bokuto more access. 

Bokuto eagerly accepted the invitation. He thought Akaashi tasted the same: sugary and earthy, like a sweet red wine. Bokuto had never been able to find a blend of red wine that matched Akaashi’s uniqueness, though he had tried. Every point of contact their bodies made left them tingling, and Bokuto’s fingertips were tiny fires pressed into the skin of Akaashi’s hips.

The world felt quiet for a moment, like time had stopped and was waiting for them. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, relearning each other and discovering what was new, but Bokuto was pulled back into the running world when he felt something hot and wet drip onto his cheek. It trickled its way down, then was followed by another, and another.

He pulled away from Akaashi to see silent tears falling from his closed eyes, and Bokuto leaned forward to kiss them away. He was gentle, careful to avoid applying too much pressure to Akaashi’s still healing cheeks. Then he rested his forehead against Akaashi’s. 

“Don’t cry,” Bokuto whispered. 

Akaashi let out a strangled laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize either.” Bokuto kissed Akaashi’s forehead, then pulled him close. Akaashi rested his head on Bokuto’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck. They stayed like that, quiet, for a few beats.

“I’m scared,” Akaashi finally said, his voice muffled against Bokuto’s skin. “And I’m tired. I don’t want to keep doing this anymore.”

Bokuto nodded, running his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. “I know. We’re going to find Hinata, and then this can be over.”

“I don’t mean just that.”

“Then what else?”

“I don’t want to keep finding you and then losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“But what about when I go to France?”

Akaashi was jostled a bit when Bokuto shrugged. 

“We’ll make it work. Or I’ll just move to France with you. We can own a farm in the countryside together if you’re still planning on ditching Interpol and becoming a farm boy.”

Akaashi sat up and frowned. “You just started your career as a detective with the NPA in Tokyo. You can’t just leave.”

Bokuto smiled softly. “Quite honestly, this case might just make me retire early.” He leaned forward and kissed Akaashi again. “But stop worrying about these things right now. You need to sleep; I need to sleep. Ru is probably sleeping on my pillows.”

Akaashi laughed and sat up with Bokuto. He stared quietly at his feet while Bokuto untangled himself from the pile of blankets and stood. Then Bokuto was tugging on Akaashi’s hand. 

“It’s time for bed,” Bokuto said at Akaashi’s questioning look. 

Akaashi thought he might melt if Bokuto's smile was any softer. He stood, clasping Bokuto’s hand tightly as they walked down the hall to Bokuto’s bedroom together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to interpret that ending however you would like.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently bought a Nintendo DS because I needed something new to do during quarantine, and it arrived in the mail yesterday. Now I have to split my time between finishing this fic and playing video games religiously like I'm Kenma. Wish me luck.

Akaashi steps carefully into the darkened warehouse. His gun is unholstered, gripped tightly in clammy hands. He wishes he wasn’t nervous, tries to steady his breathing, and checks his surroundings.

He’s not scared. He just doesn’t want to face the truth of the situation. There’s no way he’s right. There must be some explanation, something he just hasn’t seen yet. But the fact that he’s entering this building alone is enough to remind him that he’s not wrong.

He walks slowly with his back pressed against the wall, making sure his steps are silent. When he reaches the corner, he peers around the junction, gun poised by his hip, and looks for any movement. He sees none. 

He rounds the corner, repeats the process, until an open space of floor comes into view. The light is dim, but he can see a figure standing in the shadows. They are gripping the girl Akaashi is there for by her arm. He watches the knife bury itself into her chest, and she cries out. The shadow-clad individual thrusts her forward, and she crumples to the floor in a heap. 

Akaashi cries out, aims, shoots at the shadow figure. He doesn’t bother to check where the bullet found its home. He rushes forward, gathers the wounded girl in his arms, and watches the various wounds on her mangled body seep blood into his shirt.

But when he looks at the victim’s face, it’s Hinata who is staring up at him. His eyes are wide, filled with fear and questions. Blood gurgles out of the corners of his mouth, and he chokes on it…

Akaashi jolted awake with a cry, the sound of Hinata painfully whispering his name still echoing in his head. 

Kenma waited in Akaashi’s desk chair for the detective to come into the station. He had come in early to track the plate from the van that Akaashi had sent him and to avoid any more reporters. They were ruthless, but even they had to sleep. Coming in when no one else was in the station aside from the normal overnight officers on duty was Kenma’s safest bet. 

He spun in Akaashi’s chair, tapping at a game on his phone. He wished Kuroo was there to keep him company, and he thought about calling him and asking him to come in early. He knew, though, that Kuroo would just be grumpy if he did that and then hide away in his lab all day. Kenma opted to just wait.

He continued to spin lazily until he noticed someone in his peripheral. Kenma slowed to a stop to find a very tired looking Akaashi waiting there. Despite how pale and drained he looked, Akaashi offered Kenma a soft smile.

“Are you having fun?” he asked. 

Kenma ducked his head a bit and shrugged. “I was just waiting for you. I have the information about the van.”

Akaashi glanced in Bokuto’s direction. The other detective was leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. Bokuto had been shaken from a dead sleep when Akaashi had awoken from his nightmare that morning; both of them had managed no more than two hours of sleep. Akaashi was accustomed to barely sleeping, but it was clear that Bokuto was struggling. 

Kenma followed Akaashi’s gaze, then looked back at his friend. “Rough night?”

Akaashi nodded. “I’ll fill him in later. What did you find?”

Kenma handed Akaashi some papers that he’d sat on the desk. Akaashi glanced over the information as Kenma talked. 

“The van belongs to a local delivery plant. I included the name of the manager of that particular facility because I couldn’t find the name of the person driving the van. I could, however, enhance the picture you sent me, and you can see the profile of the mystery man fairly well. I included the photo there so you can take it to the plant.” Kenma pointed to the paper on the very bottom of the pile Akaashi was looking through. “I also listed all the places where Hinata’s phone pinged off cell towers. I started from his last text message, which was to Kageyama.”

“What did he tell Kageyama?” Akaashi asked, flipping to the page of locations.

“He told him he was on his way home. His phone had pinged off a tower near his school. Then it pinged a couple more times off a few local towers, all heading in the direction of his address. It stopped pinging around three blocks from home. It didn’t ping again until it was turned on at Shinjuku Station.”

“So he was almost home when they took him,” Akaashi mumbled. 

Kenma nodded. Akaashi looked so pained and afraid, and it broke Kenma’s heart. Akaashi was the kindest person he knew, and he had already suffered so much after Konoha’s arrest. The media had attacked Akaashi directly, and Kenma knew Akaashi had privately torn himself apart after the whole ordeal. He didn’t deserve to suffer anymore. 

Bokuto had wandered over to them during their conversation. He stood behind Akaashi and rested his chin on Akaashi’s shoulder, scanning his eyes over the papers that Akaashi was holding while he and Kenma talked. 

“Kenma, do you think you could get access to the traffic cameras around the area where Hinata’s phone last pinged?” Bokuto asked. “Maybe we could see who took him.”

“I’ve already put in the request,” Kenma replied. “There aren’t many cameras in that area since it’s got less traffic, but there are a couple. I figured you would want to see them.”

Akaashi nodded. “Thank you Kenma. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Kenma smiled and spun in Akaashi’s chair again. 

“Should we wait for Daichi before we go to the delivery plant?” Bokuto asked Akaashi. 

Akaashi was already walking toward the doors of the station. “I’ll call him from the car,” he said over his shoulder. 

“You’d better go now. If you don’t keep up, he’ll leave you here,” Kenma said to Bokuto.

Bokuto gave his unfinished coffee a sad look, then tossed it in a garbage can and followed after Akaashi.

Akaashi and Bokuto entered the delivery plant and approached a tall man standing behind the customer service desk. He glanced up from his paperwork when he saw them.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked.

They both showed him their badges.

“I’m Detective Akaashi, this is Detective Bokuto. We’re looking for someone by the name of Ukai Keishin. He’s the manager of this facility,” Akaashi said. 

The man behind the counter straightened a bit. “That’s me.”

“We’re investigating some recent murders and now kidnapping. Would you mind answering a few questions for us?” Akaashi asked.

Ukai crossed his arms and shook his head. “Nah, whatever you need.”

“Do you know this man?” Bokuto asked. He slid the enhanced photo of the van driver Kenma had provided across the counter. 

Ukai picked it up and examined it, then nodded. He handed the photo back to Bokuto. “Yeah, he’s one of my employees. His name is Yamaguchi Tadashi,” he said. 

“Do you have any idea why he would deliver a package to Shinjuku Station around five twenty yesterday morning?” Bokuto asked. 

Ukai thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I can’t think of any reason. He starts his shift around six every day, so he’s usually here pretty early to get packages ready. But we don’t start delivering that early.”

Akaashi nodded. “Is he working today?”

Ukai pointed at a door to his left. “Yeah, he just got back from a delivery run. He’s probably reloading on the dock now. You can go ahead in and talk to him.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi replied. 

He and Bokuto entered through the loading dock door and scanned the area. There were a handful of delivery workers bustling about, gathering packages and loading them into vans. They spotted Yamaguchi standing by the van that had been in traffic footage. He was closing up the back of the van, presumably getting ready to go out on another run. 

Bokuto and Akaashi crossed the dock, and as they approached Yamaguchi, Akaashi called out to get his attention. They had their badges ready, and Akaashi held his up for the man to see. 

“Excuse me, are you Yama—” 

Yamaguchi’s face immediately blanched, and he turned and bolted out of the loading dock. Akaashi yelled for him to stop, and Bokuto took off after him.

Bokuto sprinted around the van and followed Yamaguchi across the back parking lot. Yamaguchi was fast, but when he glanced back to see how close Bokuto was to him, he tripped over his feet. He tumbled to the ground, and Bokuto was on him in a second. 

“Please,” Yamaguchi yelped, “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

“Then why are you running?” Bokuto demanded, holding Yamaguchi to the concrete. 

Akaashi caught up to them as Bokuto hauled Yamaguchi to his feet. Yamaguchi was trembling, but he didn’t resist as Bokuto secured handcuffs around his wrists.

“Those are for your safety as much as ours,” Akaashi told him. “We’re going to take you to the station and ask you some questions.”

Yamaguchi nodded mutely. He looked like he was barely out of high school, and Akaashi felt a twinge of guilt at how utterly terrified he looked. Akaashi reminded himself that this man could have kidnapped Hinata, though, and swallowed the guilt as he and Bokuto lead Yamaguchi to their car.

______________________

“Do you want to tell us why you ran away?” Bokuto asked.

He was sitting across from Yamaguchi in an interrogation room at the station. Akaashi was standing in the corner observing, and Yamaguchi was sitting with his shoulders hunched. He looked like he might throw up. 

“I got scared when I saw the badge,” Yamaguchi replied meekly.

Bokuto hummed. “Most people aren’t afraid of the police unless they’ve done something wrong, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi nodded slowly. “I – I know. But I did do something wrong. At least… I think I did something wrong.”

“What did you do?” Akaashi asked. 

Yamaguchi slumped against the back of the chair. “I delivered a package to Shinjuku Station yesterday morning before my shift started. I didn’t see it reported on the news, so I thought maybe you guys didn’t know it was me. But… I guess I was wrong.”

“Do you know what was in the package?” Bokuto asked. 

Yamaguchi shook his head. “No, I didn’t look or ask. I got to work yesterday early, like I always do, and there was someone waiting in the loading dock. I didn’t even see him until he had a knife against my back. He put the package down at my feet and told me to deliver it to Shinjuku Station. He told me a boy’s life depended on it.”

Akaashi watched Yamaguchi’s face and body language for any hint of lying. He didn’t see any. “Did you see this person’s face?”

“No, he stayed behind me. But I heard his voice. He told me that he would be watching me, and he said if I refused, he would kill me.”

“Why didn’t you go into the station and ask the police for help?” Bokuto asked. 

Yamaguchi shrugged and ducked his head. His face was flushed with shame. “I don’t really know. I guess I was just scared. I didn’t know what was in the box and I was afraid that the police would think I had done something.”

“Has anyone contacted you since you delivered the box?” Akaashi asked.

Yamaguchi shook his head. 

Bokuto sighed and leaned back in his chair, glancing at Akaashi. Yamaguchi was just a scared kid, probably just as much a victim as any of the other people these killers had come in contact with. 

Akaashi crossed the room and unlocked the handcuffs around Yamaguchi’s wrists. “Thank you for answering our questions. Do you mind if I ask you just one more?”

“No, not at all,” Yamaguchi replied, rubbing his wrists tenderly. 

“Do you have any connections to the NPA? Any family or friends that work for the Agency?”

Yamaguchi nodded. “Uh, yeah. My best friend is a forensic analyst over at Shinjuku Station. His name is Tsukishima Kei. But I didn’t tell him anything about this. He would have freaked out.”

Akaashi nodded. “Okay. Thank you again, Yamaguchi. You’re free to go, but I would like for you to stay while I talk to an officer about setting up a protective detail for you. I don’t think you’re in any immediate danger, but we can’t be too careful right now.”

They lead Yamaguchi out of the interrogation room, and Akaashi got an officer to get Yamaguchi’s information. As Yamaguchi was sitting down with the officer, he called out to Akaashi. 

“There’s one more thing I should tell you,” he said. “I don’t know if it matters, but the box that the man gave me has a symbol on the bottom that indicates it was made from certain recycled materials. I recognized the symbol because I used to work at the place where they made those boxes. They moved the manufacturing facility closer to the city, but they don’t put those symbols on the boxes anymore. So that box had to come from the old facility outside the city. Maybe you can find something there.”

“Can you give me the address for that facility?” Akaashi asked. He jotted down the information, thanked Yamaguchi, and went to find Kenma. 

Akaashi knocked on the doorframe to Kenma’s office. Bokuto had disappeared somewhere in the station, probably to find a quiet place to nap or chug six energy drinks where Akaashi and Daichi couldn’t scold him. 

Kenma spun in his chair and gave Akaashi a small wave, inviting him into the room. Akaashi sat down next to him and handed him the information he’d gotten from Yamaguchi. 

“Does this address look familiar?” he asked. 

Kenma plucked the paper out of Akaashi’s hand. He stared at it and frowned. “It looks familiar.”

He turned in his chair and began typing in the address. A window containing a satellite image of the area popped up, and Kenma pressed his lips together in a straight line. “That’s the place where you found Konoha, isn’t it?”

Akaashi nodded. ‘”I thought I remembered the address. That’s where the box that Hinata’s things were in came from.”

“Do you think they’re holding Hinata there?”

“I don’t think they’re that obvious, but I’m still going to check. Also, can you get the security tapes from Yamaguchi’s job? I want to see if the person who gave him the package is on any of them.”

Kenma nodded, already picking up the phone to make the calls he needed to. He turned as Akaashi was leaving his office. “Hey, you’re taking Bokuto with you to that factory, right?”

“Yeah, if I can find him.”

Kenma smiled. “He’s probably with Kuroo.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “I’m sure they’re being responsible together,” he said sarcastically.

He went to his own desk and waited for Bokuto to reappear from wherever he had gone off to. While he was waiting, he scrolled through his phone, looking at pictures that he had with Hinata and Kageyama. Most of the pictures were taken by Hinata, usually when he would steal Akaashi’s phone during their volleyball practices. Hinata would sneak pictures of Akaashi setting the ball, or Kageyama making a weird face while he was stretching.

Akaashi smiled when he came across a series of photos Hinata had taken of himself. He was making a different but equally ridiculous face in each picture. His bright orange hair was sticking up in all different directions, some of it plastered to his forehead from sweat. In the last photo, Hinata was grinning from ear to ear; he looked like he had not a care in the world.

Tears gathered in Akaashi’s eyes, and he hurried to wipe them away before they fell. Akaashi set the photo as his phone wallpaper. The image of Hinata from his nightmare, covered in and coughing up blood, had been haunting him all day. He didn’t want to think of Hinata that way, because that wasn’t the Hinata he knew. 

Hinata was a ball of energy and sunshine, and he brought warmth with him wherever he went. He wasn’t a fearful kid; in fact, he was probably too trusting. That had always worried Akaashi, but he could never bring himself to lecture Hinata about it. Hinata saw the good in everyone.

Akaashi was worried about Hinata, but he was worried about Kageyama, too. He knew Hinata’s other half was safe in protective custody, but he was sure Kageyama was worried sick about his best friend. Akaashi couldn’t text or call him either, lest he risk giving away Kageyama’s location. 

Instead, he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and wrote Kageyama a short letter. Daichi would know where Kageyama was, and Akaashi could give him the letter to give to the boy the next time Daichi went to check on him and his family. Akaashi wrote a few reassuring promises about finding Hinata, and he apologized for not doing a better job at keeping both of them safe. Then he folded the paper and took it to Daichi’s office, leaving it on his desk with a note that explained what he needed Daichi to do. 

Akaashi made a promise to himself that he would keep Hinata’s photo as his wallpaper until they found him. Then he would take a new one, this time with Kageyama and Akaashi in it as well, and he would use it as a reminder that good things still existed in the world.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casually updates twice in one day...

Akaashi stared at the security footage from Yamaguchi’s job on his phone. Kenma had gotten access to the footage faster than he’d thought he would be able to, so he’d sent it to Akaashi’s phone to review. Akaashi was standing in the middle of an empty production floor at the factory Yamaguchi had directed them to, and Bokuto was poking around while Akaashi looked at the footage. 

Bokuto kicked over a pile of boxes, creating a dust and dirt cloud that spread across the room rapidly. He immediately started sneezing, and Akaashi threw a box across the room at him. It fell short, too light to travel the distance between them.

“Can you stop making a mess?” Akaashi grumbled. He sniffled, then covered his nose with his jacket sleeve to keep himself from joining in on Bokuto’s sneezing fit.

“This place is already a mess,” Bokuto replied. He coughed when dust got stuck in the back of his throat. “But I will stop making dust clouds before I can’t breathe anymore. Is there anything good on that security footage?”

“I can see the person who approached Yamaguchi, but they have a hood up and they keep their back to the cameras. They’re good,” Akaashi replied. 

Bokuto crossed the room to him and reached out for the phone. “Let me look.”

Akaashi handed him his phone, then entered the small office space in the corner of the production floor. It was filled with abandoned pieces of paper and random office supplies. A desk chair was tipped haphazardly against the wall. That was it.

They had already searched the rest of the building, which wasn’t particularly big to begin with. There was nothing; they hadn’t even found evidence of any vandalism from teenagers. 

Bokuto peeked into the room over Akaashi’s shoulder. “You’re right, they’re good,” he said, handing Akaashi’s phone to him. 

“Did you think I was making it up?” Akaashi mumbled sarcastically. 

Bokuto walked across the vast open space to another door. He opened it and peered inside but found nothing but a few tables and an empty refrigerator. “This place looks like it was abandoned in the middle of a zombie apocalypse or something,” he said, raising his voice a little so Akaashi could hear him. 

“I guess they didn’t think they needed these things in the new facility. They took all the machinery, which is all that really mattered.”

“I don’t think there’s anything here,” Bokuto said. “Definitely not any copycat serial killers.”

“Or Hinata,” Akaashi mumbled. He glanced around the space again, scanning the walls and upper levels for anything they may have missed. 

His eyes landed on a security camera that pointed to the outside parking lot. Despite the building not having electricity any longer, a small red light was still blinking on the camera.

Akaashi pointed to the camera. “Do you think that’s still recording?”

Bokuto squinted at it and shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt to find out.”

“I’ll call Kenma and see if he can find the people who still own the building. Hopefully they’ll give us access.” Akaashi pulled out his phone and dialed Kenma’s number. 

There was nothing left for them to do or look for, so they began the journey back to Tokyo. Bokuto drove, and Akaashi stared out the window and rethought his last interview with Konoha. There was a chance that, in the height of his emotions, Konoha had said something that would help. However, Akaashi couldn’t make any connections.

His brain was muddled and tired. He wanted to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw a bloody Hinata. The only relief Akaashi got from his own mind was from looking at the photos of Hinata and Kageyama on his phone. He swiped through them silently, trying not to let himself drown in guilt and fear. 

“Tell me about the boys,” Bokuto said, breaking the silence. 

Akaashi looked up from his phone. “What do you mean?”

Bokuto smiled softly. “You’ve been looking at pictures of them all day. I know you had a nightmare about Hinata last night, and I don’t want you to have that stuck in your brain. Tell me about them, the good things.”

Akaashi sat his phone in his lap and clasped his hands together. “Daichi is actually the one who introduced me to them. It was three years ago, shortly after I had joined the Agency. Daichi thought I needed a hobby because I worked too much, but he knew I would never take time to do something if I didn’t think it was worth my time.”

Bokuto snorted.

Akaashi ignored him, but the corners of his mouth quirked up a bit in a small smile. “Daichi knew Hinata and Kageyama because he had volunteered at a youth center for a while. They both went there after school because their parents worked and didn’t want them going home alone. The center has a program where you sponsor kids that need some extra help; it helps the parents pay bills or buy birthday and Christmas gifts, things like that. I got involved with that, and I chose to sponsor Hinata and Kageyama.”

“Are their home lives bad?” Bokuto asked. 

Akaashi shook his head. “No, they both have great families. Kageyama’s parents fell on some hard times a few years back and had to get extra jobs. His family is doing much better now, actually, but he still goes to the youth center. Hinata’s father died from cancer, so his mother had to support them all on her own. They’re doing better now, too. He has a little sister, Natsu, and she’s so cute. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever met a cuter kid.”

Bokuto glanced at Akaashi as he spoke; his face was a little brighter, his eyes a little less dull as he spoke about the kids he cared so much about. It was a small sliver of joy in a seemingly hopeless situation, and it even pulled Bokuto out of the murky waters his mind had been wading through. 

“Hinata was having a really hard time when I met him,” Akaashi continued. “He was so sad. He was close with his father, so his death was really difficult for Hinata to process. I suggested teaching him and Kageyama how to play volleyball, mostly because that was something I used to do with my dad. Turns out they both loved the sport, so that became our thing. I’ve never seen two kids so talented at volleyball.”

“Even more talented than me?” Bokuto asked, smirking. 

Akaashi laughed. “Oh, absolutely.”

“Wow, rude.”

“No, seriously. Hinata can jump so high, and he never runs out of energy. He might have more energy than even you had. And Kageyama can set the ball right to Hinata’s hand with this crazy laser focus. I mean, I would not have wanted to face them in a real game. It would have been impossible to get a handle on the way they work together.” Akaashi gestured widely with his hands as he spoke. 

Bokuto smiled. “So, Hinata eventually started to heal from losing his father?”

Akaashi nodded. “Yeah, he started to come out of his shell. Volleyball was a good outlet for his emotions, and it was pretty amazing to see him grow. He’s such a bright kid. I mean, literally a ball of sunshine. He texts me all the time and tells me about his days, and he sends me pictures of his exams when he passes them. When he’s sad we talk, and I’ve spent every one of his birthdays with him for the last three years. He’s turning seventeen this year, and I’m going to take him to the beach because he’s never gone. He told me he wants to learn how to play beach volleyball.”

His hands faltered in their ministrations, and Akaashi’s voice caught in his throat. He let his hands drop into his lap and bit his bottom lip, trying to force back the emotions that bubbled up in his chest. It felt like someone was sitting on him and crushing his windpipe so the feelings couldn’t go anywhere else. 

Bokuto reached over to grasp Akaashi’s hand. Akaashi tangled their fingers together and squeezed; it helped quell their trembling. 

“Do you realize how much you must mean to him?” Bokuto asked. He spoke quietly. 

Akaashi swallowed his tears, but a few escaped. 

“You’re like a dad to him, Akaashi,” Bokuto continued. “He loves you.”

“But I failed him.” Akaashi choked on a sob. “I let him get caught up in this.”

Bokuto squeezed Akaashi’s hand so tightly that it almost hurt. “No, you didn’t fail him. These monsters dragged him into this, but we’re going to catch them. And we’re going to find Hinata, and he’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Bokuto-san.”

“I’m not.”

A few tears fell from Akaashi’s eyes and landed on the top of his hand. Bokuto pulled it to his lips and kissed the tears away. 

“What do you want to do next?” he asked. 

Akaashi took a shaky breath. Following the timeline from the letter given to the media, he now had less than two days left to find Hinata. They still had no leads. 

“I want to go back to Shinjuku,” Akaashi replied. 

“What are you looking for there?”

“Konoha said there was a seventh girl that we never found. Someone had to have known something about his life. I think wherever Konoha took that girl is where Hinata is.”

______________________

Yaku saw Akaashi and Bokuto enter the station, and he heard one of the officers bemoan their presence.

“Why are they always in here? This isn’t their station.”

Yaku glared at the officer. “Just because we operate out of separate stations doesn’t mean we don’t help each other. What’s the point of this job if we don’t work together?” 

The officer ducked his head sheepishly. Yaku sent him one more glare before approaching Akaashi and Bokuto. He gave them a small wave.

“How’s the search for that boy going?” he asked. Akaashi avoided eye contact, and Yaku noticed that they were a little swollen; he’d been crying.

“We’re still working on it,” Bokuto replied. “Are you still up for helping us?”

Yaku nodded. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“Did you know Konoha?” Akaashi asked. 

The room got a little colder, and Yaku shivered. It felt like he had just stepped out of the shower and was standing in front of a fan blowing on high. He swallowed hard, then gestured toward his office. 

“Can we talk privately?” Yaku asked. 

Bokuto and Akaashi followed him into the small room. Yaku kept his office orderly and clean, just like Kenma did. Everything had a place, and it was pertinent that those things be in those places. Yaku sat in his chair and pulled up a window on his computer screen. He typed Konoha’s name into the search bar, and a file popped up. He clicked it open, and an image of Konoha appeared, followed by a plethora of information about the ex-detective. 

Akaashi leaned forward to examine the information. “What is this?”

“The NPA keeps a running file on every officer from the time you start to when you retire. It’s full of random information, like relatives and addresses,” Yaku replied. “I could easily type in your name and get the same kind of file. It also has your general location at all times in case the Agency needs to contact you. If you go on vacation, we know what hotel and what room you’re in.”

Akaashi raised a brow at Yaku. “How is this relevant to Konoha now? We know where he is.”

Yaku pointed at the list of places Konoha had been registered at. “I didn’t know Konoha well, but I did work with him for a little bit. I know for a fact this list is incomplete. Konoha knew how to work the system, and he was able to conceal his location if he wanted to. I never asked why he did it; I guess I just figured he wanted some privacy. Now I know better.”

“Do you know where any of these hidden places are? Can you find them?” Bokuto asked. 

Yaku shook his head. “No, there’s no way to tell now.” He sounded disappointed. 

“Did you tell anyone about this?” Akaashi asked.

“I told the captain after Konoha was arrested, but there was nothing that could be done even then. I wanted to show you, though, in case the locations that are here meant anything to you.”

Akaashi chewed on his bottom lip and stared at the list. There was nothing there that he didn’t recognize, but Konoha had said the evidence had been right under Akaashi’s nose. He didn’t know what that meant, though. No place stuck out to Akaashi as being a place one could keep another human being without being discovered. 

“Are there any officers who do this same thing?” Akaashi asked.

“If they do, I’ve never noticed. Either they’re smarter than Konoha was, or Konoha just didn’t bother hiding it,” Yaku replied. 

Akaashi doubted anyone else was smarter than Konoha, but they could learn from his mistakes.

“You didn’t want to say any of this around the other officers,” Bokuto said. It wasn’t a question, and Yaku stiffened. 

“Konoha was a really respected officer when he worked at this station,” Yaku said. He turned away from his computer and crossed his arms tightly, like he was protecting himself. “I only interacted with him a few times, but even I had to admit that he was talented. He had this air about him that made him seem so powerful.”

“Narcissists can be like that,” Akaashi said dryly. 

Yaku nodded slowly. “When he was convicted for those murders, a lot of the officers here didn’t believe that he’d actually done it. A few of them even accused you, Akaashi, of framing him.”

Akaashi blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Yaku waved his hands in front of his face frantically. “I didn’t say anything like that, I swear. I mean, you are just as impressive as Konoha was as a detective, so some of the officers thought maybe you were jealous or something.”

“I didn’t need Konoha out of my way to become an accomplished detective,” Akaashi replied. His voice was low, and he couldn’t help but bristle at Yaku’s words. 

“I know that,” Yaku said. He sighed and dropped his hands to his lap, curling them into fists on his thighs. “There’s this stupid loyalty that officers sometimes get to others in their station, and Konoha seemed incapable of doing the things he did. No one wanted to believe it, so they looked for someone else to blame.”

Akaashi nodded in understanding. He couldn’t say he hadn’t seen that loyalty in his own station; Oikawa had blatantly told him that he trusted no one else besides their immediate team. It was a dangerous loyalty that could leave you blind to obvious signs if you weren’t careful. 

“Anyway,” Yaku continued, “I didn’t want to say any of this in front of the other officers because some of them still feel this way. Konoha is still regarded as a hero to some of these guys, and they view both of you as outsiders.”

Bokuto sighed. “Isn’t that the exact kind of person we’re looking for, though?” 

Akaashi fiddled a bit with his fingers. Bokuto was right; they needed to find fanatical fans of Konoha, and according to Yaku, that was mostly everyone in Shinjuku Station. 

“Is there anyone who didn’t like Konoha?” Akaashi asked. 

Yaku shrugged. “Not really. I didn’t love him, but I respected him.”

“Thank you, Yaku. Can you print this list for me?” Akaashi said. 

Yaku did so, then Akaashi and Bokuto left the office. As they walked through the station, Akaashi couldn’t help but notice the way the other officers side-eyed them. He hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but he was keenly aware now that any of these people could be the ones they were looking for. 

“Do you think Yaku knows more than he’s telling us?” Bokuto whispered. He was noticing the way the other officers were looking at them too, and it irritated him.

Akaashi shrugged. “I’m not sure. Kenma can’t track us if we shut off our cell phones, so it’s not like Yaku or the Agency can do any better. I mean, if I left my phone and car here and wandered across the city, no one would be able to find me as long as I wasn’t seen and didn’t tell anyone. I don’t think Konoha had to work hard to hide his location.”

Bokuto frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t think Yaku has any reason to hide anything from us. But this list of locations helps a little, because we can at least say we know where Hinata is _not._ ”

Sarukui bumped into Bokuto suddenly, spilling a cup of water down his arm. Bokuto shook his hand to expel the liquid, grimacing.

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you,” Sarukui said. He didn’t sound sincere at all; in fact, it sounded like he wanted to laugh. 

“It’s alright,” Bokuto mumbled. 

“Why are you two here?” Sarukui asked. 

“We were talking to Yaku,” Akaashi replied. 

Sarukui nodded and smiled a little. He was still watching Bokuto shake water off himself from the corner of his eye, clearly amused. “About what?”

“The investigation.” 

“You know, shouldn’t you two focus more on Konoha and less on this new killer?” Sarukui asked. 

Bokuto frowned at the wetness on his sleeve, but there was nothing more he could do. Though, Sarukui could have at least offered him a napkin or something. Bokuto refocused on the conversation, trying to ignore the way his sleeve clung to his forearm uncomfortably. 

“What do you mean by that?” he asked Sarukui. 

Sarukui shrugged. “I mean, he was the original mastermind, right? Like, he got away with killing those girls for so long totally undetected. I would focus on him instead of this new guy; Konoha could probably give you some good insight on catching him.”

“Konoha has no reason to help us,” Akaashi said. He could see that reverence for Konoha that Yaku had spoken about in Sarukui’s words. He was disappointed that even someone as pleasant as Sarukui had been fooled by Konoha’s tricks. “But right now we’re focused on finding Hinata more than anything else.”

“Then maybe you should try to think like Konoha,” Sarukui replied. “It seems like this new killer just wants to outsmart you. Maybe thinking like Konoha would help you figure something out.”

Bokuto had the sudden urge to smack Sarukui’s half filled cup of water out of his hand. He didn’t know why. He liked Sarukui, and he and Komi had been helpful in the investigation. He had no reason to feel so much animosity in the moment. Maybe it was just because Bokuto was irritated over having water dumped on him; maybe it was the way he talked about Konoha so nonchalantly. Sarukui didn’t know the real Konoha, and admittedly, Bokuto didn’t really either. But he had seen the way Konoha played with Akaashi during their interviews, and the thought that anyone could view Konoha in a good light turned Bokuto’s stomach. 

“We’ll keep that in mind, Sarukui,” Akaashi said. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to our captain.”

“Oh, I’ll walk you out,” Sarukui replied. “I need to grab something out of my car anyway.” He followed them out of the building, trotting down the steps after them with a cheerful gait. 

“Where is Komi?” Bokuto asked. They seemed like they were a package deal, so it was weird to see one without the other.

“Oh, he’s out with another detective on some other case,” Sarukui replied. He veered away from them, waving goodbye.

Bokuto watched him for a moment, and he thought there was something familiar about the way Sarukui had bounced down the steps and toward his car. It triggered a strange sense of déjà vu, but he couldn’t place it no matter how hard he wracked his brain. 

“Bokuto-san unlock your car please,” Akaashi called from the passenger side of Bokuto’s car. 

His voice pulled Bokuto out of his thoughts. He complied, joining Akaashi in the car to take them back to the station.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto survives off energy drinks and no one can convince me otherwise.

Daichi looked out of his office window when he noticed movement down below. He saw Oikawa and Iwaizumi entering the station, and he watched Iwaizumi shake his head in Akaashi’s direction. Akaashi flopped into his desk chair and covered his face. Daichi could almost hear the groan he was probably emitting. 

He stood and exited his office. The station was mostly empty except for his team and the overnight detectives. Oikawa and Iwaizumi had agreed to stay late and visit half the locations on the list Akaashi had brought back from Shinjuku. Akaashi and Bokuto went to the other half. Judging by the nonexistent phone calls and Iwaizumi’s actions toward Akaashi, neither group had found Hinata or any evidence of the boy. 

Bokuto was sitting at Akaashi’s desk now, and Akaashi was up pacing the room. Daichi paused at the bottom of the steps and watched him take five steps, turn, take five steps, turn, repeat. Oikawa and Iwaizumi watched from their desks, giving Akaashi sympathetic looks. Bokuto was focused on the list of locations on Akaashi’s desk. 

Daichi hadn’t gone with either group because he had gone to see Kageyama and Hinata’s family. He had taken Akaashi’s letter with him to give to Kageyama, and the teenager had insisted on writing one back. Daichi had the letter with him, but he wasn’t going to give it to Akaashi yet, mostly because he had the intention of using it as bait to get Akaashi to go lay down. 

“You can’t think of anywhere else that Konoha might have used?” Oikawa asked Akaashi. 

Akaashi shook his head and wrung his hands. “No, I literally can’t think of anything. I mean, it wasn’t like I went many places with him. He was so private.”

“Maybe if you just sit and relax, you’ll think of something,” Iwaizumi suggested carefully. 

“I can’t relax, Iwaizumi,” Akaashi snapped. He flinched at his own tone, then stopped pacing and sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“It’s okay,” Iwaizumi replied. “But I’m serious, you need to try to relax a little bit. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No,” Bokuto answered for Akaashi. 

“I have less than twelve hours to find Hinata. I can’t sleep,” Akaashi said. He resumed his pacing, dragging his heels as he walked to create a scuffing sound on the carpet. It was mostly for the sensation of it, something sensory to ground him and help distract him from his anxiety.

Oikawa followed Akaashi’s movement with his eyes. “Your brain won’t be able to function well if you don’t sleep, Akaashi,” he said. His voice was sad and low. 

“And Hinata isn’t going to be able to function well when he’s _dead_ because I didn’t find him in time,” Akaashi replied. He threw his hands about in the air wildly, and his words caused even Bokuto to look up from what he was doing and eye him skeptically. 

Daichi decided that was enough. 

“Okay, Akaashi, we’ve crossed into the realm of ridiculously dramatic,” he said, walking over to the distressed detective and halting him in his pacing. Daichi placed his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders and squeezed them gently. “You need to lay down for at least an hour.”

Daichi shook his head when Akaashi opened his mouth to protest. 

“I’m not telling you to sleep, and I’m not telling you to go home. I know that we’re running out of time. But Oikawa and Iwaizumi are right: you need to rest. You’re well on your way to a total breakdown, and that’s not going to help Hinata.”

Akaashi sighed and tipped his head back, closing his eyes against the harsh lights above. Daichi’s hands were still on his shoulders, and just that little bit of weight was almost too much for him to bear; he already had the world resting there. The station was quiet, and it gave the atmosphere a false sense of calmness. Akaashi felt as if time was suspended, which was a feeling that was becoming increasingly common during this investigation.

He realized that if Daichi had never asked him to come back for this investigation, he would likely be on his way to France. He might even have already moved into a new apartment and began settling in. Hinata and Kageyama would just be faces he saw on video calls as they planned for their visits. They would be safe at home with their families. It almost made him angry, and he might have snapped at Daichi had he had the energy.

But then Akaashi remembered that this whole ordeal was personal. If Akaashi had gone to France as planned, something would have happened to bring him back to Tokyo. Konoha wasn’t going to let him go so easily. 

Akaashi remembered Bokuto telling him to not let himself become one of Konoha’s victims; it was easier said than done. 

“Let us keep working,” Bokuto said. His voice brought Akaashi out of his thoughts, but Akaashi didn’t open his eyes. He just listened to Bokuto instead. 

In high school, Bokuto had often experienced mood swings; he would fall insanely low, the smallest inconvenience enough to set him off. Akaashi had somehow fumbled his way into helping Bokuto recover from those bad days. He was never really sure what he did that worked so well. He had usually just run through the list of things he knew Bokuto liked, finding the one that fit the situation the best and using it to lift Bokuto’s spirits. 

Akaashi hadn’t seen much evidence of those mood swings since he’d reconnected with Bokuto. Perhaps Bokuto had just gotten better at managing them as he’d gotten older, or maybe he was suppressing them so he could support Akaashi. Either way, it seemed like Bokuto was the one usually bringing Akaashi out of moods now. His voice was all it took to refocus Akaashi, and he listened intently as Bokuto tried his best to soothe his frayed nerves. 

“We’ll keep looking for something that tells us where Hinata is,” Bokuto continued. “Kenma got the traffic footage from the neighborhoods near Hinata’s home, and I’m pretty sure he got the footage from the cameras at the empty warehouse. We’ll look over those while you rest. Besides, maybe if you’re somewhere dark and quiet, you’ll think of something you haven’t yet. I think you’re distracted by everything that’s going on. You need some time to think.”

Akaashi opened his eyes and met Bokuto’s gaze. His honey-colored eyes were filled with emotion, and he had that silly optimistic look on his face. It was hard to think that just a few weeks ago, Akaashi had been so annoyed by those eyes and that look. He had wanted to kick Bokuto in the shins and scream at him. Now, Akaashi found comfort there; Bokuto was home. 

He nodded. Daichi sighed in relief and dropped his hands from Akaashi’s shoulders, fishing an envelope from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Akaashi.

“Kageyama wrote this for you. Take it and go lay down in my office,” he said. 

Akaashi held the letter close to his chest as he climbed the steps to Daichi’s office. He clicked the door shut softly behind him, crossing the room to lay on a small leather couch that was against the far wall. He had always wondered why Daichi had a couch in his office; now he knew. 

The couch was a little too small for him to stretch out on, but he was able to comfortably hook his knees over one of the armrests and dangle his legs. He balled up his jacket and placed it under his head as a pillow, then opened the letter Kageyama had written. 

_Akaashi-san, I hope you’re safe. Sawamura-san said that you’re working really hard to find Hinata, and I know you will. I just hope that you don’t get hurt._

_I’m really worried about Hinata. I wish I had stayed after school with him. He was staying for tutoring, but I didn’t want to. I know you’ll tell me that I shouldn’t blame myself, but it’s hard. I know you feel the same, so I won’t tell you not to blame yourself because that would be hypocritical._

Akaashi smiled bitterly. 

_My mom says that you’re the best detective in the city, and she said she’s been praying for you and for Hinata. We haven’t seen Hinata’s family, but Sawamura-san brought me a picture that Natsu drew today. It was a picture of me, Hinata, and Natsu at the beach. I can’t wait to show Hinata when I see him again. And I hope we’ll still be able to go to the beach this summer for Hinata’s birthday._

_Sawamura-san says he has to leave soon, so I have to end this letter here. But I want you to know that I’m not afraid, and I’m so glad that Hinata and I know you. I can’t wait to see you again. Love, Kageyama._

Akaashi draped his arm over his eyes and let the tears that had gathered in them fall down his cheeks. He clutched Kageyama’s letter to his chest and sobbed. He didn’t know how he could possibly rest when Hinata was still missing. Akaashi just wanted to hold him and Kageyama; he wanted to protect them from everything bad in the world. 

He let himself cry for a few minutes but stopped when he was overcome by a deep yawn. There was hardly any energy left in his body, and his eyes felt even heavier from his tears. His friends were all correct in saying that his brain couldn’t function well when he was so tired; he decided to allow himself a few moments of rest, if only to make it easier to find Hinata. 

He rested his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. Soon, he drifted into a half waking, half sleeping state.

Akaashi felt like he was floating in water. It was as if his ears were submerged, the water muffling the external sounds around him but amplifying the beat of his heart. His breathing slowed, and he could hear the air fill his lungs then leave. His body felt weightless, and he wondered if he stayed like this long enough if he could float away. 

Maybe he was really dreaming all this; he was stuck in a never ending nightmare. Maybe he hadn’t actually shot Konoha that night; maybe Konoha had shot him. Maybe Akaashi was in a hospital bed, stuck in a coma, his brain coming up with wild dreams to keep itself entertained while he withered away. 

Maybe Akaashi was actually dead. Maybe he had really been Konoha’s last victim. 

The thought was almost welcome. If that were the case, Hinata was safe; he was at home with his mother and little sister, maybe helping to make dinner or doing his homework. Kageyama was home, too, studying for his exams and sending stupid pictures to Hinata when he was bored. 

Daichi, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi were working with two new detectives that took Akaashi and Konoha’s places. They were solving crimes and reassuring Tokyo that there was no longer a serial killer among them, not sacrificing their own time and lives to clean up a mess Akaashi couldn’t himself.

Bokuto was still in the military, or maybe he was one of the new detectives. Either way, he was happy and healthy. He wasn’t losing sleep, sacrificing his living space to accommodate Akaashi’s wild behavior. He was taking Mamoru for walks after work instead of asking his brother to come over and feed the dog for him because he was staying so late at the station. 

Akaashi’s parents were happily living out their retirement, not wondering when they were going to see him again. It had been months, after all. His sister was busy being a mother and wife instead of calling him every day, leaving various voicemails expressing her concern. His family was happy, not spending every waking moment wondering when Daichi was going to call them and tell them Akaashi was dead. 

Konoha was rotting away in prison, cut off from the outside world and not teaching anyone else to be like him. He was stripped of all reverence and respect, regarded only as the monster he really was. 

Every victim was alive and well. No one was living in fear or grief. 

Akaashi prayed for that reality. He would give up everything he had, his own life, for that to be true. He pictured the shrine on Mt. Mitake that he had visited once. It had been one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen; the red of the wood a bright contrast to the dark green of the forest surrounding it. The sun hadn’t been shining that day, but the gold on the shrine had still glittered. It had created its own light, and Akaashi had truly felt like he was in the presence of something holy.

He had prayed for help solving that original case. Akaashi had never been one to rely much on deities, but it had felt like the only option left that day. He had felt so desperate, just like he felt now; all other avenues had been exhausted, so Akaashi had turned to the supernatural to aid him. 

He did the same in the present, floating in dark waters in Daichi’s office, begging whatever deity might be listening to help him. He prayed for it to let him take Hinata’s place, or for his sleep-deprived delusion to come true. Akaashi didn’t care if he was dead, so long as Hinata and the other people Akaashi cared about were safe. 

The mental picture Akaashi had of the shrine lingered behind his closed eyes. It almost felt like he was there again, back on that day he had hiked to it with Konoha. 

Akaashi’s eyes flew open. 

He had hiked Mt. Mitake with Konoha. It had been on a random weekend, and Konoha had convinced Akaashi to come with him to a small cabin that Konoha’s family owned deep in the forest of the mountain. 

Akaashi had hated the hike; it was cold and wet, and Akaashi had been so tired from working the murder case. Konoha had promised the shrine was a sight worth seeing, and he also promised Akaashi a relaxing evening following the hike. 

They hadn’t spent long at the shrine, but Akaashi had found himself praying there. He remembered how Konoha hadn’t wanted to go in, opting to stay outside by the forest instead. Akaashi has teased Konoha about having a guilty conscience, and Konoha had brushed him off. He had insisted that he just didn’t believe in any gods, but Akaashi was welcome to do as he liked at the shrine. 

Akaashi hadn’t believed much himself, but he’d been willing to try anything to catch the person killing innocent girls in Tokyo.

He and Konoha had hiked back to the cabin that afternoon. It was small, secluded, and private in a remote area of the mountain. It was creepy. Akaashi remembered feeling uneasy there, as if he was cut off from the rest of the world.

Konoha had told him the cabin belonged to his uncle. It was the only time he had ever mentioned a family member to Akaashi, and it had made Akaashi feel special. They had spent the night there, and Akaashi had awoken the next morning feeling more refreshed than he had in months. 

Akaashi remembered asking Konoha about a padlocked door in the back of the cabin. Konoha had told him it led to a root cellar, but he didn’t have a key to it. He said he’d thought about cutting it off to go down there, but it hadn’t felt important since Konoha only used the cabin for short weekend getaways. Akaashi had accepted this answer easily. 

They had gone back to Tokyo that next afternoon, and Akaashi had never thought about his night on Mt. Mitake again. He had thrown himself back into the investigation, overworking himself to the brink of insanity. 

Just two weeks after Akaashi had hiked to the shrine, he figured out that Konoha was the killer. Two weeks after his night on Mt. Mitake, Akaashi tracked Konoha to an abandoned packaging factory and caught him in the act of murdering a girl. 

That cabin wasn’t on the list of locations registered in Konoha’s file. 

Akaashi’s mind flipped back to his last interview with Konoha. 

_You had the answers right there, right beneath you, and you never even saw it. I practically laid it all out for you and you saw nothing. Hinata will die and you’ll never find him, just like you never found the seventh girl._

Akaashi’s stomach turned. He had been there; he had been where the seventh girl was, and he had never noticed. The padlocked root cellar was Konoha’s makeshift prison. He had played a game with Akaashi that weekend, seeing if he would realize what Konoha was doing. 

Konoha was obsessed with proving that Akaashi wasn’t smarter than him. He had literally taken Akaashi to the place he’d been holding a victim, let Akaashi sleep there, and Akaashi hadn’t noticed. Of course it made sense to assume Akaashi would never think to look there. 

That was where Konoha would tell his disciples to take Hinata. 

Akaashi scrambled off Daichi’s couch, nearly tumbling to the floor in his haste. He flung the office door open, but he found no one where he’d left them. He glanced around desperately, even running down the hall to throw Kenma’s office door open. No one was there either.

Akaashi didn’t have time to look for them, though. He ran down the steps and grabbed his car keys and gun from his desk. As he ran out of the station, he called Bokuto. It went to voicemail, so he sent Bokuto a text explaining where he was going and why. He didn’t know the address, but he was almost positive he knew how to get there. He told them he would send the coordinates as soon as he arrived. 

He jumped into his car and left the station, heading for Mt. Mitake. It was over an hour out of Tokyo, but Akaashi thought he could make it in forty five minutes if he drove fast enough.

______________________

Bokuto ignored Daichi’s pointed look as he chugged his third energy drink. Kuroo only smirked and handed him another one, but Daichi snatched it away.

“You’re going to rot your brain,” he said, throwing the unopened drink in the garbage as Bokuto whined in protest. 

Kenma frowned and shuffled around Daichi, plucking the can out of the garbage and opening it. He shrugged when Daichi rolled his eyes at him. 

“Where is Akaashi?” Kuroo asked, looking at the group of people in his lab. Even Oikawa and Iwaizumi were there, but not the one who probably cared the most about the information he had found. 

“He was grounded to Daichi’s office for a nap,” Oikawa replied. 

“You left him unsupervised?” Kenma mumbled.

“What do you have for us, Kuroo?” Daichi said, cutting off any more banter amongst the others in the room. 

Kuroo placed some magnified images on the table before him. Each picture had a matching image of frayed red fibers. 

“I was looking over the coroner’s report, and I noticed that this fiber was found on each victim’s body. I had mostly just assumed it came from whatever they used to transport the bodies, but then I noticed there was none of that fiber in any of Hinata’s things,” Kuroo said. He then placed the box that Hinata’s things had been delivered in on the table. “But I did find the same fiber all in and on this box.”

Daichi picked up a few of the pictures to examine them more closely. “So Hinata _wasn’t_ transported in the same vehicle?”

Kuroo shook his head. “I was confused too, until I remembered that the box wasn’t transported by the killers. So, I had Kenma look up the products used in that old factory to make these boxes; turns out they would recycle old tarps and materials from construction sites to reinforce the boxes. A lot of the tarps were red.”

Bokuto picked up the box. “So every victim had to have been in that factory at some point.”

“Except Hinata,” Kuroo added. 

“You and Akaashi said you didn’t find anything there,” Daichi said, crossing his arms. 

“We didn’t, but we are waiting on that security camera’s footage,” Bokuto replied. He looked at Kenma, who was already on his laptop. 

“I have been waiting on the owners to get back to me,” Kenma said as he typed. “But since we have evidence that suggests the victims were there, I can try to access their system from the emails we’ve been exchanging and get the files anyway.” Daichi opened his mouth, but Kenma held up a finger to interrupt him. “We can deal with the legal repercussions of that later. A boy is missing, I’m not waiting for _permission._ ”

Daichi snapped his mouth shut and nodded. He couldn’t argue with that, nor did he want to. 

They waited impatiently as Kenma worked. Bokuto tried not to hover since he knew Kenma hated that. The room was hushed, the only sound the quiet tapping of Kenma’s fingers against the keys on his laptop. After a few excruciating minutes, he straightened and angled his laptop toward Bokuto. A video was loaded, waiting for someone to press play. 

“Here you go,” Kenma said. 

Bokuto reached forward and tapped the space bar. Daichi came to stand at his side, watching the dark, grainy video play out. 

They watched a car arrive in the parking lot of the factory, then two people get out and pull someone else out of the car. It was a young girl, and she was kicking and fighting. They entered the building, then only two people exited the building sometime later. According to the files, the pair returned a few days later and entered the building. After a few minutes, they reappeared, this time dragging a young girl with them. She wasn’t fighting and appeared unconscious. The pair put her in the trunk of the car, then drove away. 

This pattern repeated through the last found victim before Hinata was kidnapped. Kenma clicked through the files up until the current date; the killers didn’t return after Hinata went missing, and there was no sign of Hinata ever being there. 

“They were killing at that factory until something tipped them off about you and Akaashi going to investigate it,” Daichi said. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “How could they know about you two going there? And how could they clean up the area so well?”

“Maybe they were killing on the tarps,” Oikawa said. “That would explain the fibers on each victim.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “And it would be easy to clean up.”

“Did you find any tarps at the facility when you were there?” Daichi asked Bokuto. 

Bokuto shook his head. He was watching some of the footage again, but he was focused on the taller of the two killers. Something about them seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quiet place it. He rewound and played the same few seconds over and over. The taller one was walking into the building, following the shorter one. They had a certain gait, something that was pricking at Bokuto’s memory.

It clicked. 

He turned the laptop back to Kenma. “Can you pull up the footage from the delivery plant when Yamaguchi was approached and the footage from Hinata’s neighborhood where he was taken?”

Kenma did so, then turned it back to Bokuto. He watched the way the hooded man approached Yamaguchi. Then he watched the way the same hooded man snatched Hinata off the sidewalk as he walked home. He replayed each clip over and over, then asked Kenma to place the videos side-by-side. Kenma did, and Bokuto played both segments at the same time.

“This is the same person,” he said, pointing.

“Wow, incredible detective work, Bo,” Kuroo said dryly. “Of course they’re the same person, that’s one of the killers.”

Bokuto shook his head rapidly. “No, you don’t understand. I recognize that walk. Kenma, can you access the traffic cameras in front of Shinjuku Station? The ones that face the parking lot?”

Kenma grabbed his computer and began typing. 

“Are you hacking the system?” Daichi asked, leaning over Kenma’s shoulder to watch. He didn’t know why he was asking; he knew that was exactly what Kenma was doing. He was going to lose his badge over this. 

Kenma looked up at Bokuto. “What time stamp do you want?”

“Yesterday, around three in the afternoon. Akaashi and I were leaving the station,” Bokuto replied. He leaned over Kenma’s shoulder when Kenma nodded, indicating that he had that time stamp up. Kenma clicked play, and Bokuto watched as he and Akaashi descended the steps of Shinjuku Station. Behind them, Sarukui followed, and he bounced down the steps and toward his car. 

Bokuto bristled and stood to his full height. He turned on his heel and darted out of Kuroo’s lab. Kenma watched the video again and paled, and when the other detectives asked for explanation, he lined all of the videos up and clicked play.

“Son of a bitch,” Daichi muttered, then ran out of the lab to follow Bokuto. 

On Kenma’s computer screen, each frame of the taller killer walking matched, down to the footstep, the way Sarukui had sauntered away from Bokuto and Akaashi at Shinjuku Station.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm not overworking myself to get this fic posted. I literally have been so excited to finish it that I couldn't stop writing. I'm feeling great. 
> 
> Fair warning: This is the most physically violent and graphic chapter. It's not terrible, I don't like graphic gore, but just be prepared.
> 
> Also: If you want a little extra pain, listen to the song “Hush Hush Baby” by Lxandra. That was the song I listened to while writing this chapter.

Bokuto raced up the steps to Daichi’s office and flung the door open. Akaashi’s name fell short on his lips, though, when he found the room empty. He whipped his head around to look down at Akaashi’s desk, but he wasn’t there either. 

Daichi came out of the hallway leading to Kuroo’s lab and looked up as Bokuto raced across the upper floor to look in the other offices. When he appeared to not find what he was looking for, Bokuto raced down the steps and to his desk.

“What are you doing?” Daichi asked. 

“I can’t find Akaashi,” Bokuto replied breathlessly. He dug through his jacket pockets until he found his cell phone. When the screen lit up, he found a missed call from Akaashi and a text message. He read the text message quickly, then swore. 

“What’s going on?” Iwaizumi asked as he, Oikawa, Kuroo and Kenma emerged from the hallway. 

Bokuto was already calling Akaashi back. “Akaashi is going to some mountain. Kenma, you need to track his phone.”

Kenma nodded and ran up to his office. Daichi swore and kicked at a desk. The ringing in Bokuto’s ear cut short a second later. 

“Bokuto-san, I couldn’t find you.”

Bokuto’s heart skipped a beat. “Akaashi, what the hell are you doing? Where are you?”

Akaashi was speeding down a dark road, his cell phone balanced on his lap as he drove. He had made it about forty minutes out of the city, but he had accomplished that distance in only twenty minutes. 

“I know where they’re keeping Hinata,” Akaashi said to the cell phone on his lap. “Konoha had a cabin on mount Mitake, but I forgot about it because I had only gone once. He said he had basically shown me the evidence. He said I had been there but didn’t see it. That has to be the place.”

Bokuto pulled at his hair, and it almost completely fell limp against his forehead. “Akaashi, you’re an idiot! Why would you go alone? Stop where you are, we’ll come meet you.”

“I don’t have time for that, Bokuto-san. They’ll kill Hinata if I don’t get there.”

“I know who the killers are, Akaashi, you need to wait!”

“I’m not waiting Bokuto, I’ll see you when you get here.”

Akaashi ended the call before Bokuto could reply. Bokuto immediately hit redial, but Akaashi didn’t answer. He turned and threw his phone across the room, and it bounced across the floor and skittered to a stop by a far wall. 

Kenma emerged from his office as the phone flew across the room. He glanced at it with wide eyes before turning to the detectives watching him. 

“I found Akaashi,” he said. “I’ll send the coordinates to your phones. He’s about forty minutes away, but if you drive fast you can close that gap. You need to go now.”

“Oikawa, Iwaizumi, you take one car. Bokuto, you’re coming with me. Kenma, send those coordinates to first responders here and around Mitake,” Daichi barked, grabbing a bullet proof vest from a nearby closet as he spoke. “We’re going to need EMTs.”

He threw three more vests at the other detectives and began strapping his on. Daichi and Bokuto raced out of the station, Iwaizumi and Oikawa not far behind.

______________________

Akaashi wasn’t positive he remembered where the cabin was, but he prayed that he would be able to recall as he got to the mountain. It had only been a few months, so hopefully his memory would serve him well.

The night was inky; no moon shone in the sky. The stars were bright, but they were blotted out by the canopy of trees that surrounded him as he reached the base of the mountain. He drove up the road, begging that no animals would dart out; he started following signs for the shrine once they appeared. 

Akaashi knew he should have waited for his team. He knew what he was doing was stupid and reckless, but he couldn’t risk wasting the time. There was a slim chance Hinata was even still alive, and Akaashi couldn’t sit around and hope these killers were merciful while he explained the situation to Daichi and got the backup they needed.

He knew he was right. He knew Hinata was at that cabin. His instincts told him so, and he couldn’t leave Hinata there any longer than he already had. 

He passed the entrance to the shrine, the ornate building only a blur in his peripheral. Akaashi and Konoha had hiked to the shrine, but Akaashi remembered walking up the road to get to it. The cabin was off the main road, down a beaten dirt path. Akaashi slowed as he rounded a bend, remembering strolling along there with Konoha. He searched the tree line for any semblance of a path, but the woods looked different now than they had in the winter. 

Everything was much more overgrown, and the shadows of the night served only to conceal and trick Akaashi as he searched. He pulled his car over and jumped out, trotting down the road on foot to search more closely for the path. 

Finally, he found a dip off the pavement, and a post was mounted in the ground not far from the edge of the road. It had been mostly covered up with the brush of low hanging trees, but up close Akaashi could tell it was there. Just beyond it, slightly less bare, was a dirt footpath. 

Akaashi unholstered his gun and flashlight, crossing his wrists to shine the light forward and keep his gun ready. He moved as quickly as he could down the path, careful to not run into a low branch or trip and twist his ankle. He didn’t remember the cabin being so far back into the forest, but darkness always made the distance between things longer. 

The trees opened up above him and Akaashi found himself in a small clearing. The stars shone brightly above the small circle of trees, fully visible due to the lack of light pollution. Akaashi wished he had the luxury to appreciate the sight, but their beauty felt like a cruel laugh in his face as he considered what he was walking into. 

Akaashi crept across the clearing, his footsteps made quiet by his training and the thick grass underneath him. The moonless sky did nothing to help him see his surroundings better, but his flashlight did illuminate a square step a few meters away. He approached quickly, and a moment of relief washed over him as he stared at the entrance to Konoha’s cabin. 

The moment passed, and Akaashi ascended the steps carefully. They only creaked a little bit, barely a noise as Akaashi stuck close to the edge near the railing. He stepped onto the porch and scanned his flashlight, looking for any movement. When he saw nothing, he stepped toward the door and toed at it. 

It swung open easily, revealing a dark, open space. Akaashi entered carefully, sweeping his flashlight across the room and keeping his back to the wall. He stepped around the small couch in the living area and walked toward where he remembered the bedroom being. The door was open, and Akaashi peeked inside. He found nothing there and no sign of anyone having been there, then pulled the door shut behind him. 

He crossed the living area to the small kitchen, then turned to face the cellar door. It was still padlocked. Akaashi held his flashlight in his mouth and pulled at the lock; it didn’t budge. 

As he tugged at it, he heard a muffled whimper from the other side of the door. Akaashi grabbed the flashlight from his mouth and pressed his side against the door, putting one ear to the worn wood. 

“Hinata?” he called. 

The whimper rose and was replaced by a sob. “Akaashi?”

Hinata’s voice was tiny, and it trembled with fear. Akaashi’s heart dropped to his feet. 

“Hinata, I’m going to shoot the lock. Don’t be afraid,” Akaashi said, stepping away from the door. He took his flashlight in his mouth again and aimed. He pulled the trigger once, twice, and the padlock fell to the floor. 

Akaashi rushed forward and flung the door open. Concrete steps greeted him, and he almost tumbled down them in his haste. He did drop his flashlight, and it bounced down the steps, falling to the floor and rolling a bit until it stopped. Akaashi sprinted down the steps, his flashlight illuminating the room, and the first thing his eyes found was a withered pile of bones in the corner. 

A pile of dark hair was attached to the skull, and tattered, dirty clothes hung loosely on the bones of the girl Akaashi could only assume was Konoha’s seventh victim. 

His stomach turned when he thought about her death; she had never been found. If Konoha hadn’t killed her before he was caught, that meant she starved to death in this dark, dank cellar. 

A soft cry pulled his eyes away from the bones and to a supporting post in the middle of the room. Hinata was there, curled against it, his arms cuffed behind him and his ankles cuffed together as well. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, and his white school shirt was covered in dried mud. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his face had tear tracks through the dirt caked against his cheeks. 

Akaashi holstered his gun and rushed over to him. He dropped to his knees before Hinata, pulling the cowering boy into a hug against his chest. Akaashi couldn’t help the tears that fell, and he kissed the top of Hinata’s head. 

“I knew you would come,” Hinata whimpered. He was shaking in Akaashi’s arms. 

Akaashi pulled away from Hinata and gave him a wry smile. “I promised you I would protect you.” He dropped his hands to the cuffs wrapped around Hinata’s ankles. They were way too tight, likely placed that way so Hinata wouldn’t try to struggle out of them. Hinata’s skin was rubbed raw, and his ankles were swollen and bright red against the dark metal. 

Hinata flinched and winced when Akaashi pressed a tentative touch to the skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi whispered. Hinata shook his head, and his eyes told Akaashi that he knew he wasn’t hurting him on purpose. “I’m going to get them off, okay?”

Hinata nodded and watched Akaashi pull his own cuff keys away from his belt. The cuffs were placed at an awkward angle, so Akaashi had to maneuver Hinata’s legs to get to the key inserted. Hinata hissed in pain as the cuffs dug into his already raw skin, but the pain lessened a bit once the first cuff fell away. Akaashi was able to reach the other cuff more easily, and he unlocked it and removed it from Hinata’s ankle quickly. Hinata breathed out a shaky sigh of relief and rested his head against the post. 

“I’ll get your wrists now,” Akaashi said, beginning to stand. 

He didn’t hear Hinata’s warning until it was too late, and something hard and cold was hitting him in the cheek. Akaashi stumbled and fell back to his knees, dazed from the blow. Hinata was watching him with wide eyes, and Akaashi winced as blood dripped from his now open cheek to his hand. He tried to right himself, but someone was grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. Akaashi cried out, mostly in surprise, and he found a gun pressed right against his temple. He froze, afraid they would shoot him when he was only a few meters from Hinata. He didn’t need to witness that. 

The person whose fingers were fisted in his hair leaned down and pressed their lips to Akaashi’s ear. “Remember me?” 

It felt like a current of electricity had just been sent into Akaashi’s spine. He strained his head against the hand holding him, gritting his teeth as he came nose to nose with Sarukui. 

Sarukui was grinning, and it reminded Akaashi so much of Konoha that he almost threw up right on the other detective. Another hand snaked around Akaashi’s head to grip his chin, and his face was turned abruptly in the other direction. Komi was there, grinning in the same way, and he pressed his thumb to the open gash on Akaashi’s cheek. 

Akaashi winced and tried to jerk away, but Sarukui held him in place. Komi lifted a hunting knife to Akaashi’s throat and pressed the tip against the skin. It bit just slightly into the flesh, and Akaashi swallowed hard. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Akaashi muttered through his teeth. He met Komi’s gaze, keeping his own gaze steady. He refused to show them fear. 

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think he’d figure it out, Sarukui,” Komi said. He spoke lightly, as if they were merely playing a game of hide and seek and Komi had thought they had the best hiding place. 

Sarukui tapped the muzzle of his gun against Akaashi’s broken cheek and chuckled when Akaashi winced. “I’m kind of glad he did. It’s much more fun this way.”

Akaashi felt Sarukui’s grip on his hair loosen just slightly, and he bucked his hips, kicking his legs out and hitting Komi’s knees with his own. Komi tumbled to the concrete floor, and Sarukui’s grip completely fell away. Akaashi rolled away from them and toward another corner. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Sarukui was on him before he could gain any traction.

He hauled Akaashi into a standing position, twisting Akaashi’s arms behind him and holding him there. Komi recovered from his tumble and leapt up, fisting his hand in Akaashi’s hair, yanking until Akaashi was looking down at him. He snarled, his eyes alight with rage at Akaashi managing to escape, even if it was just briefly. 

Akaashi didn’t care, though. He had accomplished what he wanted; they were positioned just to the right of Hinata now instead of right in front of him. Hinata was watching them, and his frightened eyes caught Akaashi’s before Komi blocked his view. 

“Hinata, look away. Don’t look at this,” Akaashi told him. Hinata whimpered, but he obeyed.

Komi huffed out a bitter laugh. “Aw, how sweet. He’s just trying to protect Hinata.”

“You should look, Hinata,” Sarukui said. Akaashi could hear the evil smirk in his voice. “Watch us tear your little mentor apart.”

“I’ll be fine, Hinata,” Akaashi said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“He should worry,” Sarukui spat, pulling Akaashi’s arms back more and forcing Akaashi to lean against him. “When we’re done with you, he’s next.”

Akaashi struggled against Sarukui’s grip. Komi had let go of his hair and was standing before him, turning his knife around in his hand. 

“Let him go,” Akaashi growled, trying to get one arm loose from Sarukui. “This is about me and Konoha, not Hinata. He didn’t do anything. Let him go.”

“Why, so he can turn us in?” Komi asked, raising an eyebrow. “He’ll just run off and tell the police all about us. We can’t let that happen.”

Akaashi scoffed. “Do you really think they don’t already know about you? My whole team is on their way here.”

“Even more reason for us to kill both of you,” Sarukui cooed into Akaashi’s ear.

Akaashi managed to wrangle an arm free and swung it behind him, punching Sarukui in his ribs. Sarukui grunted, but Akaashi didn’t have enough leverage to get in a good hit; it barely winded him. Instead, Sarukui grabbed Akaashi’s arm harshly and pulled it back with all his might. The movement produced a sickening _crunch_ from Akaashi’s shoulder, and he screamed. 

His arm fell limply at his side, and Sarukui pulled Akaashi’s other arm even further back, threatening to do it again. Akaashi was breathing heavily, his vision clouded from the pain. His mouth went dry immediately, and he hung his head. He heard Hinata whimper again.

Akaashi managed to turn his head to look at Hinata. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and his face was buried in them. He was visibly shaking. Akaashi knew he needed to buy time; he couldn’t let Komi and Sarukui kill him before Bokuto and Daichi arrived. It was the only way to save Hinata’s life. 

He lifted his head, sweat beading on his forehead. Even the slightest movement made his shoulder scream in protest, but Akaashi had to push through the pain. 

“You don’t have to listen to Konoha.” Akaashi let his labored breaths carry his words to Komi and Sarukui. 

Komi’s top lip curled in a grimace and he slapped Akaashi across the face. He hit him right where Sarukui’s gun had split his cheek open, and Akaashi winced as fire crawled across his face. He felt blood trickle down his cheek, the weak clot that had started to form wiped away. 

“He’s not some mastermind, or whatever you think,” Akaashi continued. He coughed and gasped for air, his lungs feeling restricted. “I bet he did all this on purpose to frame the both of you.”

“Shut up,” Sarukui spat. 

“He’s just trying to make it look like you were the original killers,” Akaashi said. He winced when Sarukui twisted his uninjured arm more but continued anyway. “He doesn’t care about you two at all.”

“You think we care if he cares about us?” Sarukui replied. “We don’t care what he thinks anymore. We’re doing this because we want to, now.”

Komi placed his knife under Akaashi’s chin and forced Akaashi to look at him. “Maybe we cared before, but this is fun now. We are better than him, because we outsmarted _you._ ”

“The students have surpassed the teacher,” Sarukui boasted. 

Komi grinned and nodded. He dropped his knife to Akaashi’s limp arm and traced his forearm lightly with the tip of the blade. “And we’re going to do the one thing Konoha couldn’t.” He leaned in close to Akaashi’s face. “Kill you.”

The sharp throbbing in his arm couldn’t compare to the white hot pain that blossomed when Komi grabbed his wrist and plunged his knife into Akaashi’s forearm. Akaashi screamed, and his body bucked against Sarukui involuntarily. The movement caused Komi to drag the knife down his arm jaggedly, and Akaashi cried out and dropped his head against his chest as the knife sliced through his flesh. 

Sarukui held Akaashi even tighter against him, laughing lowly in his ear as Komi carved into his arm. When Komi removed the knife, he grabbed Akaashi’s chin and forced him to lift his head. Akaashi’s senses were so overcome with pain that he didn’t register a thing Komi muttered to him, but he gasped when it felt like Komi punched him in the stomach. A moment later, the pain from the punch became sharp and hot, and Akaashi only had a second to realize that Komi was stabbing him viciously in his abdomen before the knife was buried in him again.

Akaashi closed his eyes against the blows, grunting with each one and praying for death. He opened them, though, when he heard a click and then an explosion. Something spattered across his face, and then Komi dropped to the floor of the cellar. His hunting knife was still lodged in Akaashi’s stomach, and when Sarukui let go of him, Akaashi collapsed onto the floor next to Komi. 

In a daze of pain, Akaashi saw Komi’s eyes staring blankly at him. He realized that there was a clean bullet wound in the middle of Komi’s forehead; Komi was dead. 

Sarukui went to dart around the post that Hinata was cuffed to, but he was slammed face first into the wall before he could take more than three steps. Bokuto pinned Sarukui’s arms behind him, holding his wrists together with one hand and pressing his free forearm against the back of Sarukui’s neck. 

“Move and I will snap your neck,” Bokuto muttered through grit teeth, pressing Sarukui harder against the wall. 

Sarukui grunted but didn’t move, and Iwaizumi came up behind Bokuto to fasten cuffs around Sarukui’s wrists. Once he was secured, Bokuto let go of him with a harsh shove, and Iwaizumi yanked Sarukui off the wall and toward to the steps. 

Daichi holstered his gun and dropped to his knees in front of Hinata, cradling the sobbing boy against him as Oikawa undid the cuffs still around his wrists. 

“I’ve got you,” Daichi whispered into Hinata’s hair. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

Once they were free, Hinata threw his arms around Daichi’s neck and sobbed into it. Then he turned his face slightly and gasped at the bloody mess just a few steps away from him. 

“Akaashi,” Hinata choked out, trembling in Daichi’s arms.

Daichi tucked Hinata’s face against his chest and rose, cradling him. “Don’t look, Hinata. Bokuto, the ambulance is right behind us.”

Daichi carried Hinata up the steps, and Bokuto understood the meaning underneath Daichi’s words. 

Keep Akaashi alive until they get here. 

Bokuto rushed over to Akaashi, and Oikawa joined him. Akaashi was gasping for air, looking around frantically but really seeing nothing. His eyes finally landed on Bokuto, and he reached for his hand weakly. 

“Put pressure on that and tie off his arm at the elbow,” Bokuto ordered Oikawa, pointing to Akaashi’s flayed forearm. 

Oikawa removed his jacket and tied it around Akaashi’s elbow. Then he gathered up the excess fabric and pressed it against the open wound, applying as much pressure as he could to stanch the bleeding. 

“Make sure it’s tight at his elbow,” Bokuto said. He removed his own jacket and slid it under Akaashi’s body. He wrapped it around Akaashi’s abdomen and pulled, putting pressure on the open wounds in his stomach. The knife was still stuck in Akaashi’s middle, and Bokuto held it tightly in place to keep that wound from bleeding out more. 

“He could lose his arm if I make it any tighter,” Oikawa replied, eyeing Bokuto nervously. 

Bokuto’s eyes were intense, and they weren’t leaving Akaashi’s face. “Better his arm than his life.”

Oikawa nodded and complied, pulling the sleeves of his jacket even tighter. Akaashi winced, but he didn’t acknowledge Oikawa otherwise. 

He was still staring at Bokuto with wide eyes. He tried to speak, but a gurgled cough came out instead and blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. The spasm made his stomach gush more blood, and Bokuto could feel his jacket quickly becoming soaked. 

“Hina…” Akaashi managed to whisper. 

“Hinata is fine,” Bokuto said. “And you’re going to be fine, too. Stay with me.”

Akaashi swallowed some of the blood in his mouth and whimpered. His body felt so heavy, and he was aware that his breathing was rapid. It felt like he couldn’t get enough air, and he was so cold. His eyes searched Bokuto’s for an explanation for how he felt. He found none.

Instead, he found Bokuto’s eyes filled with a mixture of fear, determination, and tenderness. There was a heavy weight on Akaashi’s stomach, and he realized Bokuto was pushing down on him. His mind was so muddled with pain that he didn’t really understand what was happening, but Akaashi still started crying. 

Underneath the layer of blood (both his and Komi’s), Akaashi’s face was deathly pale. When he started crying, Bokuto wanted nothing more than to gather him in his arms and kiss the tears away. Bokuto’s heart broke and his own eyes filled with tears, but he tried his best to give Akaashi a weak smile. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. 

Akaashi whimpered through his tears, and Bokuto’s image began to swim in his vision. He willed all the strength left in his body into his uninjured arm and lifted it, pressing his fingertips against Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto leaned into his touch, and Akaashi felt hot tears roll down his fingers. 

His lips moved before he managed to make his voice work, and when it finally did, it was barely above a whisper. “Kou.” 

Bokuto stared at Akaashi and nodded. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too,” Bokuto replied. He bit his lip and glanced toward the steps. Where were the EMTs?

Akaashi’s eyes were closed when Bokuto looked back to him. His hand dropped from Bokuto’s cheek and fell limply at his side. Bokuto searched Akaashi’s face frantically for any movement but found none. 

He shook his head frantically and bit back a sob. “Akaashi, no, you have to stay awake.”

Next to him, Oikawa squeezed Akaashi’s arm tighter, silently begging the blood to stop flowing so rapidly. He grit his teeth and held back his own tears. 

Bokuto called Akaashi’s name again but got no reply. There was a flurry of voices and footsteps, and then other people were crowding them. Bokuto was shoved away from Akaashi’s body, and he scrambled backwards helplessly as he watched EMTs begin to work on Akaashi. 

Oikawa wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s torso and pulled up, forcing him to stand. He was speaking, but Bokuto couldn’t hear any words he said. He just continued to stare at Akaashi’s motionless body on the floor as Oikawa ushered him up the stairs.

The last glimpse Bokuto got of Akaashi was of his pale, bloodied face. Then he was being shoved upstairs and out of the cabin, surrounded by blue and red flashing lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have chapter 15 written, it just needs to be edited. I won't be editing it tonight because I always take some time between writing and revising to approach it with fresh eyes. But I promise chapter 15 will be up tomorrow, so you all won't have to suffer and wait for too long. Love you!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this and sending me love and comments. I really enjoyed writing this story, maybe even a little more than Little Love. I'm sad it's over, but I already have a new fic idea (I'm just really out here trying to get through quarantine guys).
> 
> I hope you all stay safe and healthy!

It should have been silent, given the circumstances. The world should have stopped and waited, held its breath the same as the rest of them. That was only fair. 

But hospitals are far from quiet places, even after the drama and excitement passes. Even in the dead of night, the halls are filled with the murmur of hushed voices, distant beeps, and footsteps on hard floors.

Bokuto sat in a flimsy chair, eyes closed against the sterile whiteness of the room. Even with just a dim lamp on in the corner, it was overwhelming. The door was closed, but he could still hear someone walking down the hallway.

He opened one eye and flipped his phone over, lighting up the screen to check the time. 4:27 AM.

The nurse would be coming to do vitals soon. Bokuto closed his eyes again and placed his elbow on the bed next to him, leaning his head against his palm. He focused on the steady beep of the machine on the other side of the bed. While he would give just about anything for a completely silent place to sleep, the presence of that beep was the only thing that brought him comfort. 

He didn’t know how much time passed, but he was roused slightly from his dozing when he heard the shuffle of the nurse around the bed. He lifted his head from his hand, which now felt slightly numb, and blinked blearily at the nurse. She apologized softly for waking him, but he shook his head slightly.

The nurse left the room a few minutes later, and Bokuto shifted in his chair to lay his head on his arms directly on the thin mattress. He refocused on the steady beep, and this time he could also make out the soft, even breathing next to him. He matched his own breathing to it and drifted back to sleep. 

The first thing Bokuto thought when he awoke was that his neck felt broken. He sat up stiffly and groaned, arching his back a bit to work out the kinks. His spine popped a few times, and he tilted his head to each side to get the same reaction from his neck. He was still stiff, but he at least felt more awake. 

“You sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies cereal.”

Bokuto turned his gaze to the other side of the hospital bed and saw Kenma sitting there. He was eyeing Bokuto with mild disgust, clearly offended by the sound of his popping joints. 

Bokuto laughed softly and stretched his arms above his head. “It feels nice.”

Kenma shook his head, but he was smiling. He turned his attention away from Bokuto and back to the hand he was holding. It felt cold and heavy, and Kenma wrapped his smaller hands around it to try and transfer some warmth. 

“Has he woken up at all?” Bokuto asked quietly.

“He opened his eyes once this morning, but he went right back to sleep,” Kenma replied. “The doctor said that was normal, though.”

Bokuto nodded. “They’ve been giving him smaller doses of the pain medication since they were able to take the tube out. They said he might start moving around more and opening his eyes because of that.”

“Do they think he’ll fully wake up soon?”

“They said he will when he’s ready.”

Kenma sighed and squeezed the hand in his lightly; it felt a little less cold now. He had hardly been able to look at Akaashi when he first came out of surgery. The doctors had only allowed one person in at a time to see him since he was recovering, and Daichi had been the first to go in. Kenma had considered staying in the waiting room when he was offered a chance to see Akaashi, but he decided not to. It wasn’t like he was looking at a dead body; Akaashi was alive, he was just really hurt.

Bokuto had been the second one to go into Akaashi’s room. The first thing he had noticed was how pale Akaashi was; his skin was almost see-through, like rice paper, and he looked slightly blue in the dim light. The stitched up gash on his cheek looked even worse against his ghostly skin.

The doctors had given them a report of all Akaashi’s injuries. They told them that Akaashi’s shoulder had been completely dislocated, and the top of his humerus had been severely fractured. He also had to be intubated since the hunting knife had punctured one of his lungs, as well as lacerated his liver. He had significant nerve and muscle damage in his left arm from where the knife had carved it open, and the doctors weren’t sure if he would ever regain full use of his left hand. 

The mess of tubes and wires surrounding Akaashi had made Bokuto cringe. He had stood next to Akaashi’s bed and held his free hand, which wasn’t really all that free with the IV in it. Still, Bokuto had hoped Akaashi could feel him there. He had promised Akaashi that he wasn’t going to leave him anymore. He had no intention of breaking that promise now. 

In the days that had passed since his initial surgery, Akaashi had to have two more. One was to repair the more extensive damages to his liver, the other because of internal bleeding. After those surgeries, Akaashi got some of his normal color back. It was a relief to all of them, since it indicated that Akaashi was beginning to recover.

Eventually, Akaashi began breathing easily on his own and the doctors were able to remove the tube. Bokuto had been glad Akaashi was still unconscious so he hadn’t been forced to experience being intubated or having it taken out; it looked horrific to an outsider, so Bokuto couldn’t imagine how it felt. 

After that, it was up to Akaashi to wake up on his own. Bokuto spent most of his days at the hospital, only leaving when he absolutely had to. He was staying in a hotel nearby, since there was no way they could have moved Akaashi back to Tokyo with how extensive his injuries were. 

The rest of the team were all back in the city, but Kenma insisted on making the hour long drive to see Akaashi daily, and Kuroo usually came with him. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Daichi were wrapping up the investigation against Sarukui, so they couldn’t come every day, but they were there most days. The Agency was paying for Akaashi’s family to stay in a hotel near the hospital as well, and Bokuto spent time catching up with them while they visited Akaashi. 

Bokuto stood from his chair and twisted at his hips to stretch his back.

“I’m going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?” he asked Kenma.

Kenma shook his head, and Bokuto walked out of the room. At this point he knew the nurses by name, and they waved at him from the nurse’s station. He waved back and went down to the cafeteria to get coffee and breakfast. He grabbed Kenma a pastry even though he’d declined food, mostly because he knew Kenma liked them. He paid for his food and then made his way back to Akaashi’s room. Kenma hadn’t moved, and Bokuto sat the pastry next to him. 

“Thank you,” Kenma mumbled. 

“No problem,” Bokuto replied. He took a sip of his coffee and watched Akaashi sleep for a few minutes. Then he looked at Kenma. “How are things going with Sarukui?”

“He plead not guilty to the charges,” Kenma said, letting go of Akaashi’s hand and placing it gently on the bed. He picked up his pastry and nibbled on a bit of it. “He’s saying that you and Akaashi framed him, and that it was actually you two who were doing the copycat murders.”

Bokuto huffed. “Please tell me no one actually believes that.”

Kenma shook his head. “Not at all. Even his lawyer is trying to convince him to just take a plea. They want him to testify against Konoha for the seventh girl and Hinata’s kidnapping in exchange for a lesser sentence.”

“Is he going to take it?”

“I don’t know. Right now, he won’t go against Konoha, and Konoha won’t say anything about them either. Konoha’s attorney swears he had no outside contact, so there’s no way he could actually advise Komi and Sarukui to do anything. But the prison gave me access to their security cameras, and they clearly show Komi and Sarukui visiting Konoha on multiple occasions.” Kenma shrugged. “They thought they were coming to interrogate him, so the prison always let them in.”

“So what happens now?” Bokuto asked. He swirled his coffee around, watching some of the settled cream begin to blend again. 

“Well, Akaashi is in no position to withstand a trial, and we really don’t want to put Hinata through that either,” Kenma replied. “So we’re just going to gather as much damning evidence as possible and hope that it puts enough pressure on Sarukui to take the deal or plead guilty.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“Hinata is a minor, so he’s not required to testify in actual court. He could just testify in the judge’s chambers with both attorney’s present, which is what the DA is going to push for if this goes to trial. Akaashi will definitely be called as a witness, but we might be able to just get a statement from him if he’s still in the hospital.”

Bokuto sighed and looked back at Akaashi. He almost looked peaceful. Bokuto didn’t want Akaashi to have to deal with this case any longer; it had already taken so much of his life, he deserved to be done with it. 

“Let’s hope Sarukui just takes the deal,” he mumbled.

______________________

The first thing Akaashi’s conscious mind registered was the incessant sound of beeping. It was incredibly annoying.

He rolled his head to the side and immediately regretted it. His cheek throbbed against the bumpy pillow he was propped against, so he groaned and rolled his head the other way. He regretted that, too, because his chin bumped his shoulder and it set off a wave of dull pain rolling down his arm. 

He gave up and put his head back in its original position. The beeping was still annoying, and now it was slightly louder and faster than before. 

He was startled when someone touched his hand softly, and he looked to his right with wide eyes. 

“Kei-kun, it’s okay.”

“Nee-san,” Akaashi whispered. His voice cracked from disuse, and he felt like he had swallowed glass. He winced. 

His older sister scooted her chair closer to the bed and took his hand in hers. Her long hair, which was usually down and curled, was pulled up in a messy bun and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” she whispered, squeezing her little brother’s hand gently. 

Akaashi squeezed back then looked at his surroundings. The whiteness of the room was harsh on his eyes, and it smelled strongly of antiseptic and cleaning products. He didn’t like that smell at all because it reminded him of the time he had to stay in the hospital when he got his appendix removed as a kid. 

He realized that the beeping he was hearing was a heart monitor. Then he realized that he was the one attached to said heart monitor, which meant he was in a hospital. He tried to remember what happened to put him there, but his memory was hazy. The dull, constant pain in his shoulder and stomach wasn’t helping. 

“Do you remember anything?” his sister asked. 

“A little,” Akaashi croaked. He winced again and reluctantly swallowed, shying away from the rawness in his throat. 

His sister reached up and ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. “You had a breathing tube in for a while, that’s why your throat hurts so badly. They just took it out a few days ago.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Two weeks.”

Akaashi frowned and closed his eyes for a second. He still felt so fuzzy and groggy. 

“Mom and Dad just went out to get lunch,” his sister said. “They’ll be back soon.”

Akaashi nodded, then opened his eyes. “Is Bokuto here?”

His sister smiled. “He isn’t here right this second, but he’ll be back. He hasn’t really left the hospital since you got here. Why didn’t you tell me he was back in town?”

“I had other things going on. I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Kei-kun, Bokuto is the most relevant thing to happen in your life.”

“Wow.”

His sister began running her hand through his hair again, and Akaashi leaned into her touch. It had been so long since they had seen each other, and Akaashi had truly missed her. He briefly wished their reunion hadn’t had to be in a place like this, but sometimes you don’t get what you want. 

“Are you in pain?” she asked. 

Akaashi nodded. “And I’m very tired.”

“I’ll go get a nurse. They should know you’ve woken up, anyway. Try to rest some more.”

His sister left the room, and Akaashi closed his eyes again. He was vaguely aware of someone coming in and putting something in his IV, but he didn’t pay much attention to them. Shortly after, his pain began to vanish, and he was much more comfortable. He was able to fall back asleep easily. 

When Akaashi awoke again, he wasn’t in nearly as much pain as before, and his head felt incredibly light. He wasn’t sure if that meant more time had passed, or if the nurses were just keeping him on a steady dose of medication, but he didn’t really care.

He turned his head to his right to see if his sister was still there. Instead, he found Bokuto lounging back in the little chair. He was poking a spoon in a cup of jello with pursed lips. His supreme level of concentration was so dorky and adorable that Akaashi almost swooned. 

He decided that he was definitely hyped up on pain medication. 

“You’d better not be eating my jello. I earned that,” he said. 

Bokuto looked up, his lips still pursed, and then he smiled. “It’s not very good anyway.”

He put the cup on the bedside table that contained Akaashi’s untouched dinner and scooted the chair closer to the bed. “Hi.”

Akaashi gave him a lazy, sleepy smile. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“You know, right now I feel pretty good.”

Bokuto laughed. “Yeah, you have some pretty powerful pain meds coursing around in there.” He took Akaashi’s hand in his and laced their fingers together, looking down at them with an apprehensive look on his face. 

Akaashi thought Bokuto looked sad, and that bothered him. He tried valiantly to sit up, but he couldn’t gather up enough strength. Luckily, he didn’t feel much pain from tensing his ab muscles, but there was a dull throb. He decided that was probably a bad idea and settled against the pillows again. But the movement did cause Bokuto to look at him, and now he looked panicked. That didn’t work out quite how Akaashi wanted. 

“Stop moving around so much!” Bokuto yelped. “You’re still healing, you could open up your stitches.”

“Don’t look so sad,” Akaashi replied, completely ignoring Bokuto’s concerns. “I’m okay, right? You don’t need to be sad.”

“I think you’re still pretty far from okay,” Bokuto muttered, lowering his eyes again. “If I had been there sooner you wouldn’t have gotten so hurt.”

Akaashi frowned. He still couldn’t quite remember everything that happened, mostly just blips of faces and words. The most prominent memory was just the intense pain he’d felt, followed by Bokuto’s eyes. 

“But you were there, you helped me,” he said. 

Bokuto closed his eyes against the tears that were gathering there. Akaashi was so sincere, and he was so worried about Bokuto being upset. It was almost unfair for him to be so concerned when he was the one who had narrowly escaped death. 

Guilt was gnawing at Bokuto’s heart. He lifted their joined hands to his lips and pressed them against Akaashi’s knuckles, kissing each one softly. A few tears fell from his closed eyes, and he felt Akaashi pull his hand away to reach out his fingers and catch them. 

Then Akaashi put his palm flat against Bokuto’s cheek, and Bokuto leaned into it. He placed his hand over Akaashi’s and let himself take comfort in the touch. It crossed his mind that maybe he should be giving Akaashi comfort instead of seeking it from him, but he couldn’t make himself move away. 

The last time Akaashi had touched him like this, Bokuto thought Akaashi was going to die. His hand had left a bloody print on Bokuto’s cheek when it had fallen limply at his side, and then Bokuto had been shoved away from Akaashi before he could make sure he was still breathing. It only felt right to keep Akaashi’s hand there; to repeat the action and make sure it ended well this time, instead of in fear and grief. 

Bokuto opened his eyes and found Akaashi staring at him. His ocean eyes were as deep as always, and this time Bokuto let himself fall in and sink. He leaned forward and kissed Akaashi gently. It mimicked the first kiss they had ever shared, back when they were just teenagers and didn’t even understand their own feelings.

It was sweet and brief, just long enough to communicate the things they wanted to say but couldn’t find the right words. When Bokuto pulled away, he placed a kiss on Akaashi’s forehead. Akaashi smiled softly, then started giggling.

“What are you laughing about?” Bokuto asked. He was confused, but he couldn’t help but smile. Akaashi made him weak. 

Akaashi pressed his lips together in a futile attempt to suppress his laughter. He shook his head and reached up to take some of Bokuto’s hair between his fingers. 

“Your hair is so ridiculous,” he said. He dissolved into a fit of giggles when Bokuto’s jaw dropped. 

Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his hair, feigning offense. “How dare you.” 

He pressed kisses into Akaashi’s open palm, earning more giggles. Then he smiled and shook his head. “You need to sleep. Your medication is making you loopy.”

“I feel great.”

“I bet you do.” Bokuto stood and tucked the blankets more securely around Akaashi. Then he sat again and took Akaashi’s hand. “Go to sleep.”

“Will you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Akaashi looked up from the book he was reading when he saw movement in the doorway. Bokuto was standing there, leaning against the frame. He gave Akaashi a sweet smile. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Akaashi closed his book. “I’m feeling good.” He wasn’t just saying that, either. He had finally begun to heal more completely, and while he still took basic pain medication to help keep himself comfortable, the doctors felt comfortable taking him off the heavier things. 

“Good,” Bokuto said. He gestured over his shoulder. “There’s some people here to see you. Are you feeling up for visitors?”

Akaashi wasn’t sure who “some people” could be; his team had already come to visit earlier, and his parents and sister didn’t need an invitation. He nodded anyway. 

He was immediately delighted that he did, because Hinata and Kageyama emerged from behind Bokuto. Akaashi’s face lit up, and he extended his good arm out to reach for them. They both rushed over to him and wrapped him in a gentle but earnest hug. 

Hinata was directly against Akaashi’s chest, and he had his arms around Akaashi’s neck. He was careful not to put too much weight on Akaashi’s injured shoulder. Kageyama had his arms around the both of them. 

Once they felt satisfied with their hugs, Kageyama released his hold and Hinata stood up. Instead of sitting on a chair, though, he hoisted himself onto the hospital bed and sat next to Akaashi’s legs. Kageyama rolled his eyes but smiled and sat in the chair. Bokuto went out into the waiting room to give them some time together. 

Akaashi wiped away a few tears and then reached out to run his hand through Hinata’s messy hair. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he breathed. 

Hinata smiled brightly. “I wanted to come visit you a lot sooner, but Mom said I needed to let you rest.”

“Not to mention you were in the hospital too,” Kageyama said, raising a brow at Hinata. 

“I was in the hospital for like, two days,” Hinata replied, rolling his eyes. “It was barely anything.”

Akaashi frowned. “Are you okay, Hinata?”

Hinata nodded and gave Akaashi another bright smile. “I’m fine, Akaashi. I’ve been talking to a special doctor about everything, and she’s been helping me process what happened. I haven’t had any nightmares in like, a whole week.”

It felt like someone had just punched Akaashi in the chest. Hinata noticed the way Akaashi’s face fell, and he reached forward to take Akaashi’s hand. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I promise. It was all really scary at first, and right after Daichi took me outside I guess I went into shock or something. But then it got a lot better really fast because I was safe, and my mom came to the hospital.”

Kageyama pursed his lips and swatted at Hinata’s free hand. “Stop talking, idiot, you’re making him feel bad.”

“No, no, no,” Akaashi said quickly. He pulled his hand away briefly and wiped away a couple more tears, then took Hinata’s hand again. “It’s okay, I want to know.”

“I wasn’t really hurt, just dehydrated and hungry,” Hinata continued. He looked at a random spot in the room and shrugged. “I mean, it was scary. But I knew you were going to come find me. I wasn’t worried about that. The scariest part was when they hurt you. I thought you were going to die.”

Hinata looked at his feet dangling off the bed and swung them a bit. His nose was a little scrunched up from emotion, then it passed, and he sighed. He looked up at Akaashi again. “I won’t pretend like everything is the same as it was before,” he said. “But I don’t want to live in fear. I know that those people will never be able to get to me again. I also know that I will never walk home alone again. I’m just glad you’re okay. I was so scared that I would never see you again.”

Akaashi chewed on his bottom lip as he listened. He shook his head a little when Hinata finished talking. “I’m so sorry, to both of you. I should have made sure you were both safe. I never wanted either of you to get hurt.”

“We know that,” Kageyama said. 

Hinata nodded in agreement. “Please don’t be sad. We’re just glad this is all over now.”

“Me too.” Akaashi pulled Hinata closer for another hug, and he gestured for Kageyama to join them. He held them close to him and thanked whatever gods might be listening for that moment.

______________________

Bokuto stared at the gun resting on his desk. He couldn’t remember a time when it didn’t feel like just an extension of his hand; perhaps when he had first joined the military was the only time it had felt foreign to him. He wondered if he would always find himself reaching for a gun on his hip or if eventually that habit would pass.

Daichi’s office door opened, and Bokuto rose from his desk chair, grabbing his gun. He ascended the steps and knocked on the doorframe, waiting for Daichi’s permission to enter. Daichi waved him in, and Bokuto sat in the chair across from his desk. 

“I have a feeling I know what this meeting is about,” Daichi said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together. 

Bokuto nodded, then leaned forward and placed his gun and badge on the desk. He didn’t say anything, just sat back and squared his shoulders. Daichi stared at the items for a moment, considering them, then he raised his eyes to Bokuto’s. 

“Are you sure?”

Bokuto nodded.

Daichi sighed. “I understand. Thank you for the time you did serve.”

“Thank you for having me.”

Daichi smiled. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s next?”

Bokuto made an unsure face. “I don’t really know. My old commander reached out to me and let me know they need an instructor for new recruits. I’m thinking about applying for that position. I have some savings, though, so I’m in no rush to find something.”

“How does Akaashi factor into that?”

Bokuto choked on his own spit and coughed hard. Daichi laughed. 

“Sorry, I suppose that was a little forward,” he said, still laughing. Daichi composed himself after a moment. “I just mean, I figured that you would continue to, um, stay in contact with him.”

Bokuto cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He had never anticipated discussing his relationship with his boss, especially a boss like Daichi. It seemed like Daichi sensed his discomfort, though, and waved his hand like he was shooing the topic away. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter. How is he doing? I haven’t talked to him since he left the hospital,” Daichi said.

Bokuto was grateful for the change of subject. “He’s doing well. He’s being discharged from the rehab facility this weekend.”

“That’s good. I know it’s been a difficult few weeks for him,” Daichi replied. “Do the doctors think he’ll make a full recovery?”

“He can walk fine on his own now. He just needed to rebuild muscles after being in the hospital for so long.” Bokuto subconsciously wiggled the fingers on his left hand as he thought about Akaashi’s injuries. “He’s going to continue physical therapy for his hand, but they’re hopeful. He can pick small things up now, so that’s progress.”

Daichi nodded. The last time he had seen Akaashi, he had just recently had his sling removed. He’d had a mostly normal range of motion in his arm but almost no control over his hand. Daichi had felt overwhelming sympathy for Akaashi as he’d watched him realize he may never be able to use his left hand again. Hearing that the rehabilitation efforts were effective was a relief. 

Daichi stood from his chair. Bokuto followed suit, and Daichi began to offer his hand for Bokuto to shake. Then he thought better of it, and he pulled Bokuto into a hug. Bokuto returned it. Daichi gave him a strong clap on the shoulder and smiled. 

“Don’t be strangers, you and Akaashi are welcome to come visit anytime,” he said. 

Bokuto nodded. “I’m sure we will. Good luck for the future.”

Daichi thanked him, and Bokuto left his office and descended the steps. He gathered up the few personal belongings he had collected from his and Akaashi’s desks, gave the station one last look, then walked out.

______________________

The wind was a little chilly, but Akaashi felt comfortable under his multiple layers. He pulled his knees to his chest, letting his toes sink into the sand at the edge of the blanket he was sitting on. Despite the brisk wind, the sun was warming the sand and it felt nice on his feet.

“Akaashi-san, look what I found!” 

He looked up as Natsu bounded over to him, her unruly orange hair (that so obviously matched her brother’s) pulled back into fluffy pigtails. She dropped to her knees next to Akaashi and held out her little hands to reveal a small pile of pale colored, semitransparent pebbles. 

“Oh, that’s sea glass,” Akaashi replied. He picked up a greenish piece and held it up to the sun. The light filtered through and created a faint green hue over his face. 

Natsu grinned. “Wow! That’s so pretty!”

Akaashi smiled and handed it back to her. “It’s beautiful,” he poked her nose, “just like you.”

Natsu giggled. “Can I leave them here with you and go look for more?” she asked. 

Akaashi nodded and patted the blanket. Natsu dumped her precious stones there, then ran back to where she had been digging for treasures near the water’s edge. Akaashi watched her with a smile.

A loud laugh caught his attention, and he glanced over to the trio just a bit further down the beach. Bokuto had his hands planted on his hips and his head thrown back in an open-mouthed laugh as Hinata chased a rogue volleyball down the sand. It rolled right into the undulating water, and Hinata had to dive to catch it before the tide took it away.  
He arose from his endeavor covered in wet sand, and he stuck his tongue out at Bokuto and Kageyama as they continued to laugh. 

“It’s hard to keep up with it because of the wind!” he yelled, running back to them. 

“You just suck,” Kageyama said, snatching the volleyball from Hinata’s hands and holding it above his head. 

Hinata immediately leapt for it, but he couldn’t quite achieve his normal vertical because of the sand. Kageyama seemed to know this, and he was taking advantage of being able to hold something out of Hinata’s reach for once. 

Realizing his normal tactics wouldn’t work, Hinata opted for leaping onto Kageyama’s body directly and dangling off his shoulders. Kageyama tilted and turned, swinging Hinata about, but Hinata held fast and laughed loudly. Soon, Kageyama lost his balance and they tumbled into the sand. Hinata scrambled up and grabbed the volleyball, then took off down the beach with it. Kageyama leapt up and took chase. 

Bokuto watched them go, then shook his head and turned back to where Akaashi was sitting. He jogged over and plopped onto the blanket behind him, pulling Akaashi between his legs and against his chest. He planted a gentle kiss on the back of Akaashi’s neck, then rested his chin on Akaashi’s head. 

Akaashi leaned into Bokuto’s warmth and pulled his arms around him. Bokuto curled his hands around Akaashi’s and laced their fingers together. He glanced down and noticed the little pile of pale pebbles on the blanket. 

“Is Natsu creating a collection?” he asked. 

Akaashi chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll probably have to convince her to leave some of it here.”

“We should get that putty stuff and then she can press them into it and make some kind of cool pottery or something.”

“Hmm, good idea.”

“I’m glad we could bring them here.”

Akaashi nodded. “I’m a little sad it’s so late after Hinata’s birthday, though.”

“I don’t think he cares. We’ll just call it a joint birthday trip for Hinata and me.”

Akaashi smiled. “Okay.”

Bokuto nuzzled into Akaashi’s wind tousled hair. He smelled like salt and sunscreen, and Bokuto loved it. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m good,” Akaashi replied. He squeezed Bokuto’s left hand with his own to prove it. His fingertips almost always tingled like they were half asleep, and his grip was weak, but he could perform most everyday tasks.

“Are you tired?”

“A little, but I’m okay.”

“Good.” Bokuto squeezed his arms around Akaashi in a gentle hug, then relaxed. 

Most days, Akaashi felt good. He had regained full motion of his arm, and his hand was at about sixty percent. It was a change, but he could cope with it. A few months after he left rehab, he had started having terrible heartburn, which caused him to have trouble eating. He’d ended up getting surgery to remove his gallbladder to reduce the levels of bile being produced after the injuries to his liver. After his surgery, most days he could eat just fine. 

He began seeing a therapist for his PTSD. He still had nightmares, but they had stopped being a nightly occurrence a few months ago. When he did have them, Bokuto was always there to hold him and keep him tied to reality. He would stay up with Akaashi all night after the really bad ones, cradling him and reminding him that he was safe. 

Bokuto had taken the job training new recruits for the military, which had made Akaashi feel much better. Bokuto was no longer putting himself directly in danger, and Akaashi knew he would come home to him every night. 

Akaashi hadn’t continued his career at Interpol. It went without saying most of the time, but he had retired from law enforcement altogether. The last few months had been spent recovering and healing, but he’d been informed recently that the director of the city youth program, through which Akaashi had met Hinata and Kageyama, was retiring. She had personally approached Akaashi and asked if he would be interested in the position. He was. 

Natsu ran up the beach with more sea glass cupped in her little hands. She dumped them all on the blanket and picked up a particularly large piece. It was darker than any of the other ones she had found, almost a midnight blue. She held it up excitedly. 

“Akaashi-san, this one looks like your eyes!” She placed it next to Akaashi’s face as if he could see them side-by-side. 

He just smiled. “You’re right, Natsu. That one is a lot darker than the others.”

She held it out in her palm. “I want you to have this one because it’s pretty like you.”

Akaashi held his own hand out and Natsu dropped the stone in his palm. 

“Thank you. I’ll keep it forever.”

Natsu beamed like Akaashi had just told her he was going to buy her all the ice cream in the world. Hinata and Kageyama came racing back toward them, skidding to a halt in front of the blanket. They were both panting heavily, and Hinata took a moment to catch his breath before jumping up and down. 

“I totally won,” he told Kageyama, pointing at him triumphantly. 

Kageyama shook his head. “That’s not fair, I was holding the volleyball. You had an advantage.”

“Fine, then race me again!”

Natsu jumped up. “I wanna race!”

“Uh oh, she’s definitely going to beat both of you,” Bokuto said, winking at Natsu. 

The three of them took off down the beach. It was pretty clear that the boys were letting Natsu win, but they still celebrated her loudly when she surpassed them. Akaashi watched them fondly, and he smiled when Bokuto curled his hand around the dark blue sea glass still in Akaashi’s palm. 

“What are you thinking about?” Bokuto asked. 

“Nothing, really. I’m just happy,” Akaashi replied. 

“Me too.” Bokuto rested his cheek on Akaashi’s shoulder and began to kiss Akaashi’s neck. Akaashi hummed, pressing himself closer to Bokuto’s chest. 

Akaashi’s phone lay on the blanket next to them, and it lit up briefly with a text notification from Kenma. Akaashi glanced at the message preview, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he smiled at his wallpaper: a picture of him, Bokuto, Hinata, and Kageyama clustered together, smiling, happy. 

It was mid-September. The wind was chilly, but the sky was blue, cloudless. The sun was shining brightly, and good things still existed in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my fics have elements of them inspired by songs, and I usually end up using the title from the song because I have little creative energy left for titles. This one was no different. It's NOT based on Bad Blood by Taylor Swift, though I do like that song. 
> 
> This fic was actually inspired by a song called [Bad Blood by Bastille.](https://open.spotify.com/track/2HHiH52OPxe8qyVO7N4uH7?si=fxKV8Aa8SeKHGCrePwyxfQ) Go give it a listen if you want!
> 
> And of course, come yell at me on tumblr about Haikyuu or whatever else. [@iliura](https://iliura.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you all again! Much love<3


End file.
